Ultimate Showdown
by Flyboy254
Summary: Dead 6 vs Mustang and his men...What could possibly go wrong?
1. Prologue

**The Ultimate Showdown**

* * *

"Dr Einstein?" Herbert said, peeking his head into the professor's lab. "The device…it's malfunctioning…"

Einstein looked up from his papers in shock. "What…what kind of…_malfunction_?"

Without warning, a bolt of blue lightning struck Herbert in the back, his scream cut off as he was erased from existence. "Mein Gott…"

The lab was full of such bolts, assistants and Allied soldiers running for their lives as beams and bolts arched from the Chronosphere, sending tools and men flying through the air or erasing them. Einstein felt his jaw fall, as a soldier who tried to cut the power was struck in the back by a bolt of lightning, his outline only seen for a second before he was utterly undone. Men without arms or legs, their appendages cleanly severed, ran or crawled through the area, screaming for help that couldn't get to them.

* * *

As Mustang and Havoc moved through the facility, they nervously watched for any trace of the homunculi, gloves and gun ready for whatever surprise attack that would come. Meanwhile, Riza and Al carefully approached the door, unaware of the deadly secrets behind it. Fuery and Breda waited nearby, while Falman recovered from his wounds.

"Hey Havoc," Mustang said, freezing in his tracks. "You feel something…off?"

"Nah, not nearby, anyway. Then again, I'm trying to kill something that can't be killed, so-"

"So what?" Mustang said, looking over at Havoc. Only there was one thing missing.

Havoc.

"_Lieutenant!_" Mustang screamed, his eyes searching the beige walls and ceiling for any trace of his subordinate. The only thing he could sense was the faint smell of ozone in the air.

* * *

As Breda and Fuery quickly cleaned up the surveillance equipment from the apartment, they tried to make sense out of the battle they had just seen.

"Jeez," Breda said, packing away a radio. "Colonel looked like he meant business, didn't he?"

"I know," Fuery said, gathering up the wires in the room. "Makes me almost feel sorry for the enemy, you kno-"

"Yeah, I get what you mean-" Breda answered, then flew backwards after seeing no one there. "Fuery! Fuery where'd you go!"

The last thing he remembered seeing was a flash of blue lightning.

* * *

As Nick "Havoc" Parker moved through the town, he felt the Nod nuke coming closer and closer, each passing second bringing him closer to his demise. "C'mon, Six, let's move!" he bellowed, desperate to get to the extraction point as fast as humanly possible.

"Hey…can't we take it…a little easier?" Sydney panted, bending over to try and catch her breath. "I mean…we're not _all_…commandos…here!"

"Sorry, miss," Gunner said, walking ahead of her. "But it's essential that we get you to the extraction point as soon as possibl-" The rest of the sentence was cut off by a blast of blue lightning.

"_Gunner!_" Hotwire screached, before she was zapped away by another blast.

"_Team! Spread out and watch for Nod!_" Havoc screamed, grabbing Sydney and throwing her behind a burnt-out Nod truck. "_Deadeye! What do ya see!_"

"Nothing, captain!" MacInnis yelled back, moving his weapon in a large arc. "It's like that lightning just appeared outta nowhere!" A split-second later, Patch disappeared in another bolt. "Patch!" the Scotsman cried, just before another bolt landed on him.

"_No!_" Parker cried, running to the spot, just before a final bolt stole him from existence.

Sydney just sat down, afraid to do anything, fearing her life and that of her fathers, slowly curling herself up into a ball. "No…" she whispered. "This isn't happening…It can't be…"

"Don't move," said a voice behind her, as a Nod Stealth trooper materialized behind her, his laser rifle at the back of her neck**.**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Unnecessary Introductions

* * *

Mustang felt his eyes slowly open, the bright light of days scrambling his already overtaxed senses. Birds sang loudly through the trees, as the sun broke above the unseen horizon. Raising his head, he looked around to see a place he couldn't remember ever seeing before. There were houses lined along a black road, all eerily similar to each other. Trees towered above them, and strange vehicles stood still nearby.

Carefully picking himself up off the ground, he tried to piece together how he could have gotten there. But all he could see was a flash of blue light, then darkness. Now, he was surrounded by color, the sounds of songbirds falling through the air, as the morning sky came up on the horizon. Then, he realized he wasn't alone.

Groaning and grunting, his team started to wake up themselves, also trying to figure out what had happened. "Anyone get that truck's number?" Havoc moaned, as he sat up and looked around.

"Can the jokes, Havoc," Mustang growled. "This is serious. I don't have any idea where we are, and I don't think you do either!"

"I can't tell the location myself, colonel," Falman said, as he rose from the ground. "All I can say is it's damn lucky we all managed to find ourselves in the same place."

"That doesn't help the situation, Falman," Mustang said, looking around. "We need information, and fast." Looking around, he saw a house, with no cars in the driveway, numbered "320". Trees ran along the side, and the back was a brick patio. "That's our best chance. We'll have to break a few rules, though."

"As long as we get back home, that suites me fine," Havoc said, as he moved to the back.

* * *

Parker didn't know what the feeling was at first, all he knew was that he was probably dead. Then, slowly, he felt a soft sensation on his face. A little rubbery but natural at the same time. "_What? What the hell is on my face?_" Then, he moved his head up and had another realization. "_Wait…I'm not dead!_" "I'm not dead!" he yelled, looking around. Just as quickly as he cheered, he went back to business. Wherever he was, it had lots of trees and more houses, meaning civilians. To his right, a line of bushes ending at a white shed. To his left, a smaller shed, and ahead, a house. The object to his right, however, caught his attention.

"Wow," Gunner said, pushing himself up. "Never 'ad a rush like _that_, 'fore, captain. Let's not do it again, eh?"

Parker just stared at what was ahead of him, the color and shape of the object freezing his mind.

"Jesus," Deadeye groaned, "What kinda weapon was that?"

"Dunno," Hotwire answered. "But it wasn't like anything I've ever seen. What do you think, sir?" Silence. "Sir?"

Eventually, all eyes drifted to the flagpole in front of them, and the entire team's jaws dropped. One it, there were three flags. One was red, white and blue, and that was already enough to shock them. But for Captain Parker, the second flag made it worse. It was blue, with two horses on the sides of the coat of arms. An eagle sat perched above, and a ribbon with the words "Virtue, Liberty and Independence" ran below.

"_Oh no_," Parker thought. "_I'm home!_"

* * *

After a few harrowing seconds, Furey finally managed to break the lock, sliding open the glass doors. Slipping inside, the team spread through the house.

"What are we looking for, sir?" Hawkeye inquired, a little awed by the technology inside.

"Dates, addresses, something that can tell us our location," Mustang answered, himself a little impressed by the inside of the house. "Look for a newspaper of a radio. Furey, try that…screen, see what it does."

"I'll try sir," Furey answered, slowly approaching the thing. It's casing was jet black, and it's side had a row of buttons, labeled "channel", "volume", and "power". "This must be it," he whispered, pressing "power".

"_IT'S OUTTA HERE! HOME RUN RYAN HOWARD, THE PHILLS LEAD FOUR TO ONE!_"

"Furey, shut it off!" Havoc screamed, covering his ears. The sound coming from the screen was intense, assaulting their ears with the sounds of screaming fans. Quickly, the screen went dark again.

"What was that?" Falman said, staring at the thing apprehensively.

"Dunno," Mustang said, "But I think it'd be for the best if we didn't turn it back on."

"Sir! I've got something!" Hawkeye said, a slight hint of fear in her voice. Going to her, Mustang found her holding a paper. "It's got a date and everything, sir, but…but…"

"'But' what, lieutenant?" Mustang barked, grabbing the paper out of her hands, before staring at it in surprise. "No…that date can't be right!" But it was. April 15, 2008.

Slowly, the shock wore off, and the Dead Six started to collect themselves. "Alright, you guys keep watch, I'll try and contact Locke." The commandos obliged, and Parker went over to the small shed, turning on his arm EVA. "Eagle Base, this is _Havoc_, respond." Static. "Locke, come in, this is _Havoc_." More static. "EVA, give me a signal sweep." Then, after a few seconds, Parker swore, reading the worst message a commando could get from his EVA. "NO SIGNAL".

"Shit," he whispered. "Six, we're on our own."

"Course of action, sir?" Patch asked, loading his grenade launcher.

"We find out where the hell we are, then try and get Sydney. Simple as that." Using his hand, Parker ordered Deadeye and Hotwire into the house nearby.

"From what I can tell, this world and time aren't very different from ours," Falman said, spreading the paper out for all to see. "Wars, famines, abuses of power, it's all here."

"Wonderful," Mustang said, the his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It also says something about 'Washington D.C.' being the seat of the government. If we want any information, we should head there."

"Maybe we should be a little more cautious, sir," Hawkeye said, looking at another section. "The government seems to be as paranoid as ours as well. It says here they may seal the borders."

"Then we'll have to act before they go too far," Roy answered. "First, we need to change our clothes. Search the house, check for pictures and dressers. Falman, you're the only one here who can pass for a civilian, so keep scanning the paper. Find a map too, we'll need to find the nearest city." With that, the five went through the house, as Falman did his best to make sense of what he read.

* * *

"Any progress, Hotwire?"

"Give me some time, Havoc. It's not what you would call easy to reprogram an EVA in the field. Thank God whenever we are has a working GPS network."

Parker nodded. Since Nod's attempts to jam GDI satellites and comm., all EVA's were being programmed to use Nod's system instead, making sure commandos and other forces could still operate. That wasn't the problem, though. Parker still couldn't remember anything past the blue flash. The small village in Eastern Europe had ceased to exist, replaced with Pennsylvania.

"_Ah well_," he thought. "_Least we're not in Jersey_."

"Captain," Deadeye whispered, "I've got Tango's in the house over there, all armed."

"Burglars," Parker said, taking our his rifle to see for himself. Switching to infrared, he saw Deadeye was right. Inside, there were multiple subjects, at least four armed, and all of them seemed to be rooting through the house. "Hold here, Six. We don't want to give ourselves away."

"But captain, they're criminals," Patch said. "We could interrogate them for information, then leave them for the authorities. The local's won't believe a word they say, and we take off in their vehicle."

"That's not the brightest plan ever, Patch," Parker said. "What if they're police on a warrant? Or some other agency? We'd get ourselves in so much shit we wouldn't know which way was up!"

"Well, we could just break and enter ourselves and see what happens," Hotwire said, as she worked on the unit. "Unless you have a better plan."

Parker grunted. Once more, the Israeli had pointed out the flaw in his arguments. "Fine. Patch, with me. The rest of you, keep quiet." With that, the two men moved to the backdoor, prepared for whatever could happen.

As Roy and the others scavenged through the master bedroom, they carefully observed the clothing in the pictures. It seemed casual clothing was the normal fashion, and somewhat even more risqué. Women wore shirts that would get Riza arrested. Men wore jeans regularly, along with strange looking tennis shoes. At times, there were odd, electric looking devices in the peoples hands, near their mouths, small screens on them.

"Fuery, what are those things," Mustang said, as he grabbed at a t-shirt.

"Hm? Oh, those! Really, sir, I can't tell, but I'm confused by these phones," he said, looking over at the device next to the bed. "I mean, look at it! There's no cord connecting the receiver, there's no wheel, it even has a small screen!"

"Agreed," Hawkeye said, having gathered enough clothes. "I think it's safe to say that this…place has a higher level of technology than the State."

"Then we'd better be careful. Go get changed, lieutenant, go to Falman when you're finished."

As Parker and Patch moved to the windows, they ran through scenarios in the minds, making note of any possible problems. Enemies hidden behind walls, outside, even an unlucky phone call from a good Samaritan. But if anything was going to wrong, it was the people in the house. Whoever these people were, they were armed and gathered in a single place. That meant organization, however loose, and a group mentality. If they decided they didn't like him and Patch…well, they could be in trouble.

Reaching a low window, they pushed themselves up on their toes, they made another troubling discovery. Uniforms. That meant organization, and organization could mean more than who Deadeye could see. What's more, they were changing, making sure that, unless the public knew their faces, they could easily disappear.

"Patch, keep an eye on these guys, I'm heading for those glass doors." Nodding his understanding, Patch stood at the window, while his captain moved for the nearest entrance.

Falman shook his head at the news he read. Wars racked the country, as the money inflated dramatically. Crime was rampant, and the government seemed unable to agree on anything. It was so disturbingly like Amestris, he felt like he was reading the Central Times.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. However, just as he was about to address the person, he felt the cold steel of a gun on his head. "Don't scream of yell, and I might let you live," it said, it's tone gruff and threatening, it's owner clearly not fooling around. "Tell me where we are."

Falman swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry, I don't know. We just…just arrived."

"Don't bullshit me," the voice said, pressing the muzzle into the back of Falman's head for emphasis. "You're looking over the paper like you read it every day. Now, tell me where we are!"

"Falman, don't say anything else," came Hawkeye's voice, along with the sound of a hammer for more emphasis. "This man isn't going anywhere."

"Don't bother, sweetheart," the voice said, a hint of laughter on the end. "You're outclassed more than you realize. Just put that little thing down and back away. I don't like hitting girls."

"Listen, why don't we just all put our guns down?" Falman sputtered out, trying hard to keep from shaking. "Let's…let's j-j-just talk this out…maybe this is all a misunderstanding!"

"It isn't, Falman," came the colonel's voice, followed by a thud on the floor. "We found this guy outside the bedroom window. Seems he was watching us rather closely."

"Sorry, sir," said another voice, this time with an accent. "One of them looked at just ze right time…they even had low yield explosive on them. Thank God it didn't set off the grenades, eh?"

"Told ya to be careful, sir," Havoc said, taking the gun from behind Falman's head slowly. "We could've all ended up toasted."

Parker loosened his grip as the blonde man took away his pistol. "_No big loss_," he thought. "_Just gotta wait for the others…they _had_ to have seen Patch get toasted out there._"

"Who are you?" the leader said. Using terms like "sir", they had revealed they used ranks, and had shown that they probably weren't law-abiding citizens. That, and the explosives.

"I don't think I'll tell ya," Parker said. "I'll just let my friends tell you."

"Friends?" the colonel said, before he felt a pistol at the back of _his_ head.

"Great," Breda said. "Gonna torch them too, colonel?"

And there they stood for what seemed like an eternity, fingers firmly on triggers, almost spring-loaded. They stared at the heads ahead of them, waiting for the chance to fire the first shot.

Then, the front door opened. "-Olf outing went pretty well, except for the cop's foursome! No, no, the firefighters were alright, but on the ninth hole, they-" The man coming through the door froze mid-sentence, staring at the sight in his kitchen. Almost as quickly, every available gun was pointed at him, and melee ensued.

Havoc sent a viscous elbow at Parker's face, while Mustang tangled with Deadeye. Gunner picked up Fuery, while Breda threw a flurry of punches at the larger man, while Falman and Patch tangled. Riza tried to shoot Hotwire, but the Israeli was too fast, and tackled Hawkeye into the fridge.

The owner of the house just stared, then remembered his cell. Quickly he dialed 911. "Hello police? Yeah, there's some crazies in my house…they have guns!"

Havoc and Parker fell into the living room, grappling with each other, looking for an advantage. Quickly glancing over, Havoc saw a vase, and grabbed it, slamming it into the side of the other man's head. As his opponent screamed in pain, Havoc leaped up, looking for any other weapon.

"Argh! Bastard!" Parker said. "You're gonna pay for that one!" Without pause, Parker made a sweep kick at Havoc's legs, followed by a flurry of jabs that forced the Amestrian back.

"_Jesus,_" Havoc thought, dodging a quick blow for his eye. "_This guy's good. Better end this fast!_" Then, he spotted his chance. As soon as the next punch came, Havoc grabbed the arm and pulled towards him, then shoved his opponent into the fireplace, the front glass breaking into pieces.

"Don't even try it," Hotwire warned, already in her fighting stance. "You guys don't know who you're dealing with."

"It doesn't matter," Riza replied, pulling another gun from her hip. "You probably die just once." With that, she fired, Hotwire barely moving in time to avoid the shots, diving behind the TV. The screen broke apart, as the .45 rounds screamed through the back.

"Fine, take this!" Hotwire yelled, firing her repair "gun". The charged beam shot out like lightning, arching wildly as it tore apart the wall of the kitchen, dishes and cups breaking apart or melting. A small fire started, as Riza looked on in shock.

"_Who _are_ these people?_"

"Damn, can't use my flames," Mustang whispered, trying to push forward against his opponent. He and his opponent were locked, both of their arms trying to push each other onto the floor, and away from the advantage. Without warning, Mustang felt his legs give way, and his foe slam his head into a wall.

"Colonel!" Riza screamed, as another blast of lightning flashed before her eyes.

Shoving his opponent against a wall, Falman grabbed at one of the grenades and pulled the pin, throwing it at the woman behind the TV. Only there was one problem. "What? Where's the pi-" was what he said, before Patch threw a right into his jaw.

Minutes later, sirens came from outside the house, along with screams and shouts. "Six! Move now!" Quickly, the commandos sprinted to the front and out the door, seeing two police coming towards them, guns drawn.

"On the ground, hands above your heads!" one yelled, motioning with his hand.

Without pause, the five split up, forcing the two officers to split their attention. One focused on Hotwire, the other on Gunner. Then, they were both tackled by Patch and Havoc. "Good job, six! Now let's move!" Looking around, they saw a large van in a nearby driveway. Without any thought or consideration, they jumped in a drove off, leaving a very scared and confused man in their wake.

"Ugggghhh…" Mustang groaned, as he pulled himself up. "What…happened…lieutenant! Are you alright!"

"I'm fine sir," Hawkeye answered, holding a cut on her arm. "The enemy escaped, though, and the local authorities have arrived."

"Damn, and I almost won, too," Havoc whined, gathering up as many weapons as he could. Breda and Fuery lay in a pile, as Falman nursed a bruised jaw. "What now, sir?"

"We go ask that man some questions," Mustang answered, tightening his gloves.

As the man looked at the two police officers on the ground, only a single thought ran through his mind. "Oh man…the insurance…my house…" Then, he was turned around and shoved to the ground.

"Where are we?" said a black haired man, one of the people from inside. "Where's the nearest city? Answer me _now!_"

"Trenton!" the man yelled, throwing up his arms in defense. "Trenton! It's that way!" the man screamed, pointing to the East. "Over the bridges! Just…just don't hurt me!"

"No promises," said a blonde man, before the homeowner's vision went dark.

Riza put the pistol back in her pants as the man fell to the ground. "Was it really necessary to knock him out, sir?"

"Anything that can buy us time, lieutenant. Falman! How're Breda and Fuery?"

"We're fine, sir," Breda said, carrying Furey on his shoulder. "But…damn! Who were those guys!"

"We'll find that out later," Mustang answered, seeing an incoming car. "Right now, we have to get going to this…_Trenton_."

* * *

**So there once was a fanfic that started out when a young writer wrote...poorly. Then he went back one day and said, "Dammit, I like this story, and I'm gonna fix it and continue it!"**

**So, I'm replacing all the chapters I can in this story, fixing a few glaring errors while still keeping the original story intact. So if you think this story is something for you, feel free to leave a review. More to come in the next few days...  
**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Directions

* * *

"Finally," Hotwire sighed, as the screen blinked to life. "Sir, I've managed to hack into a civilian satellite network. We now have a map of the area."

"Good job, Hotwire," Parker said, as he drove the SUV onto Route 1. "Just keep that connection up! We don't know if the government'll jam it."

"That's the least of our worries, sir," Deadeye said, adjusting his body to the interior. "Those others…they seemed a mite different than your normal criminals, and I think any one of us could tell you that. They were something else entirely, sir."

"Agreed," Parker said, turning onto an exit into Philadelphia. "They were trained better than your average gang, even better than an illegal militia."

"Nod insurgents, maybe?" Gunner said, squeezed uncomfortably into the back seat.

"I doubt it," Parker said. "They didn't strike me as very…well, Nod! No signs of Kane, no tiberium anywhere, not even a scorpion. It's like…" Parker just thought, not knowing what to say. "Let's see if the news has anything to say."

Switching on the radio, he couldn't believe it when he heard "In international news, the situation in Afghanistan was complicated when an American air strike was blamed for the death of a funeral procession, killing dozens. The Coalition forces denied it was a funeral, stating-"

Parker turned off the radio, and looked over at Hotwire. "Something's wrong…"

* * *

After a few tries with the controls, Havoc had finally succeeded in getting the hijacked vehicle to work. The controls were essentially the same, but there were more dials and buttons inside than anyone knew what to do with. Thankfully, it was larger than any car they had ever seen, with more than enough room to fit them all.

"Thank God the major isn't with us, otherwise we'd need a bigger car!" Breda observed, as they drove to the city. The roadsigns in the country, thankfully, were large, green, and had the names in white letters, much better than those in the backroads of Amestris.

"So, what do we do when we reach the city?" Fuery asked nervously.

"We should move to the poorer sections," Mustang said. "From there, we get information, money, and blend in."

"But sir…isn't that…well, wrong?"

"Fuery," Hawkeye said, checking her clip. "We're in an unknown situation. We need whatever we can get to make it through. Will there be things we do that are wrong? Yes. But we're doing it in order to survive. We will have to live with the choices we make here."

Fuery opened his mouth, as if to argue against what the lieutenant had just said, but sat back in his seat, looking down at the floor.

* * *

Sirens blared as the ambulance arrived at the house, the firemen finishing up with the back of the house, blackened and charred from the burning bedroom. The two officers who were first on scene were hurriedly taken onto the ambulance by the EMT's, while the newly awakened homeowner was interviewed by Detective Walker.

"And what did the other guys look like, the ones who _weren't_ wearing uniforms?"

The man just kept rubbing the back of his head, trying to make the pain go away. "Well…they were wearing normal stuff…t-shirts and jeans…but they were acting weird…Like they didn't know where they were…they didn't even know what Trenton was…"

The detective nodded as he jotted down the information, then looked at the man. "Thank you very much sir, this information should help us. If you'll go over to the sketch artist, he'll ask you to recall a few more things." Nodding, the man went over, smiling slightly, then taking another look at his house and hanging his head in sorrow.

"Christ," Walker said as he closed the notepad. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this information?"

"Sir," said the rookie, Callahan. "The other residents said they only heard a loud explosion in the back. Mailman said he saw six of them taking a red Cadillac, license FAI-284K."

"Alright, get an APB out to Trenton PD and Jersey Troopers, SUV and descriptions once we have them. All suspects armed and dangerous." The younger man nodded and set off, while Walker went to talk with the ranking firefighter.

"It's strange," said the lieutenant. "And I don't mean the fact that they had explosives. It's the fact they _didn't_ have any."

Walker nodded, then, "You wanna run that by me again?"

"Bend down here," the firefighter said, kneeling at the window where the fire had started. "What do you see?"

"A blackened window sill, what's your point?"

"Exactly, only a blackened sill!" the fireman said, moving his hands excitedly. "Now, from what our few witnesses say, the blast was enormous! So, why isn't anything disturbed?"

Walker looked at the lieutenant, then down at the ground, then back at the lieutenant. "There…there weren't _any explosives?_"

"Exactly!" the fireman proclaimed, getting up. "Whoever did this used only incendiaries, and the gear to make that has to be pieced together. You can't just buy one from the local hardware store!"

"My God," the detective said. "We could be dealing with a paramilitary group here…"

"Whatever they are, they're good," the fireman said, lighting a cigarette. "The blast radius on this thing hasn't been exact yet, but I can already tell you it's small but powerful for something of its size. We'll need to get some experts in here, but whatever made that blast wasn't garden fertilizer."

Walker nodded, stewing over the implications of terrorists in the suburbs.

* * *

Crossing over the river that apparently led into Trenton, Mustang and the others were amazed at what they saw. The buildings before them were taller than anything they had ever seen, one with a golden dome. The bridge to their left spelled in large neon, "TRENTON MAKES THE WORLD TAKES". Cars flowed to and fro, while a train passed them on the right.

"My God, this place has more going on than Central," Havoc whispered, as a number of boats speed through the river below.

"No way man! Central looks like a village compared to this place," Breda said, pressing his large face against the glass.

"None of that matters now," Mustang said. "Lieutenant, turn to our right ahead. It seems to lead to some apartments."

Nodding, Hawkeye obliged, taking away the magnificent view.

* * *

As Al slowly gathered his senses, he tried to remember what had happened before someone had slipped the blindfold onto his eyes. He could see Hawkeye in the hall, remembering the darkness that surrounded them…then…

"Lieutenant!" he screamed, shooting up in his bed. "Wait…where am I?" he asked, slowly coming to the realization he was back in his hotel room. "But…how'd I get here?"

"Al!" Turning his head, Al saw Ed barging through the door. "What happened! The guards at the third institute said they found you with a blindfold over your eyes! They said you couldn't even talk!"

"But brother! Something happened to lieutenant Hawkeye! We have to go find her, we need to tell the colonel-"

"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen, Alphonse," said Major Armstrong, as he and Sgt. Brosh followed Ed into the room, a young corporal closing the door behind them. He had short cropped brown hair, and a rounded face. "It seems the colonel and his staff have gone missing too," Armstrong explained. "All six of them."

Ed and Al just stared at the major, unable to believe what they had just heard. "But…but how…"

"It seems Col. Mustang and 2nd Lt. Havoc also disappeared from the Third Research Institute. At around the same time they were being searched for, 2nd Lt. Breda, W.O. Falman and MSgt Fuery were found to be MIA as well. All we could find was the equipment they had used for surveillance."

Al and Ed silently digested the information Armstrong had given them, keeping in mind that it could be one of Mustang's plans to lure out the enemy. But for his whole team to just up and vanish? "What else did they find?" Ed asked, trying hard to keep his voice from breaking.

"They only found Lt. Hawkeye's dog barking into thin air. It took three men to drag him away. We're keeping him in a pen right now, at least until someone volunteers to take him."

"Brother, we could send him to stay with Winry." Al said, head down to the floor.

Ed didn't answer, he just stared in silence at the wall, his balled hands held in front of his lips. Nodding silently, Armstrong started to leave. "Cpl. Huey, have the proper arrangements made to transport Black Hayate to Ms. Rockbell's home."

* * *

Locke paced nervously about the bridge, his worst fear realized at last. Capt. Parker had failed. "Lt. Maus, have we had _any_ contact from 6 yet?"

"None sir," the officer answered, carefully monitoring the comm. channels. "It's like they vanished off the face of the Ear-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Lt!" Locke ordered. "They're…they're just out of radio range. They should be contacting us very soon. For now…for now, we have to focus on rescuing Sydney. Have we sent in the strike force?"

"Yes, sir, but…well, we seem to be encountering a few snags…"

"Such as?"

"Well sir…the Nod stealth camo can't be detected until it's too late. Our men are being decimated right now, and reinforcements are still an hour and a half away."

Locke stared down at his control panel, his face clearly displaying his disbelief. These were some of the best troops GDI could put up, with equipment and technology far beyond the current standard. Now, they were being destroyed, all because five people had simply vanished. "_Am I that incompetant…that I can't even lead a battle anymore without Parker?_" He quickly shook the thought away. "_No! I'm a trained and tried officer, I've served in the Royal Army, and I was personally chosen by the Secretary General himself! I should have no trouble leading these men!_" "Lieutenant! Order all troops to take the open field where the obelisk is positioned! Order an MCV to that position post-haste! Order the officer on-scene to organize sweeper teams specifically tasked with locating the civilians resistance and eliminating Nod patrols!"

Maus nodded and started issuing the general's orders, while the troops on the ground readily obeyed. However, the fight for the Nod SSM launchers was complicated both by the Obelisk, and the stealth tank nearby. The second the Sea Knights landed, they were torn apart, while the others in the air hurriedly pulled up. The following A-10 strike utterly destroyed the Nod defense, allowing a quick set up of the Construction Yard. The sweeper teams moved through the tiny village, linking up with the small resistance and escorting a few to the base, where they were briefed and sent back with new directives. Humvees were flown in, as Orcas flew fire mission after fire mission. That didn't mean the battle was easy. Nod laser weapons cut a terrible swathe through the GDI forces, unaccustomed to such attacks. The terrible weapons shot straight through men and machine, leaving gaping holes in their wake. Nod stealth troops ran freely among the GDI and Resistance forces, appearing when least expected, cutting through the teams as though they weren't there. Finally, the GDI forces were given heat-sensitive gear, and Nod stealth was made useless. But the battle lasted long into the next day, and by the time the last Nod soldier had been neutralized, any trace of Syndey Mobius was long gone.

* * *

Roy only needed one look at the area to know he was in the right place. The houses were worn, some literally falling to pieces as they drove by. Anyone who was outside was worn, trudging slowly to a place they'd rather not be. The men wore clothes that were torn and baggy, while seniors remained inside or close to the door.

"Well sir, what now?" Riza said, spotting some of the men looking at the car with hungry eyes. Others just looked at her.

"Park this thing in an alley. We'll enter one of the houses from there, and grab the things we'll need. Falman, you'll stay with the lieutenant. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, you're with me. Any questions?"

"No sir," they answered, as Hawkeye pulled into a nearby alley. Quickly, the four soldiers silently moved from the vehicle, leaving Falman and Hawkeye alone in the strange town.

As Falman waited outside, Riza finally looked down at the clothes she was wearing. The green shirt stretched against her body too much for her comfort, along with the denim pants. Such clothes pushed the limits of what was acceptable women's wear in Amestris, thought such apparel was considered conservative by this nation's standards.

Falman tried to relax, leaning against the quickly warming metal of the vehicle, but he couldn't! One minute, he was just barely regaining his senses from being knocked unconscious, the next, he woke up in a strange new nation! Yet every time he tried to piece together the interim, all he could bring up was a great blank. "_What happened?_"

As Roy and the others carefully snuck through the apartment, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Stealing from a middle-class home, while still immoral, did not carry the same weight as stealing from a family who was clearly struggling to make ends meet. Where the first house was mostly filled with expensive looking objects and devices, the ones here were blander and worn from age. The great silver icebox in the first house translated into a beige, rusted contraption. The flat screen device that had created both picture and noise was boxier, with actual buttons and two antennae sticking up from the top. The floor was covered in small toys, and the cupboards were barely stocked with food. Even then, however, Mustang and the others were surprised to see that the food was already prepackaged, and scant few raw foodstuffs.

"Breda, Fuery, stay down here. Havoc, with me." Nodding, Havoc followed Roy up the stairs to the next floor. The bedrooms weren't heavily crowded, but they were clearly not single rooms. On the first one, they arrived in the parents room, and sifted through the drawers and next to the bed.

"Colonel, over here!" Havoc whispered. Going over, Mustang saw Havoc holding up a wad of green papers. "Looks like this one is the lowest," he said, holding up one with large "1"s in the corners, centered on an aged man with a strange hairdo in the middle. On the back, a strange pyramid and an eagle, grasping a branch, arrows, with a shield superimposed over it. On both sides, the words, "THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA". "Must be the name of the country, sir," Havoc said, getting up from the floor. "At least now we know we're not back home."

"Agreed. Get Fuery and Breda up here, see if they can't find anything in the bedrooms. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take care of business."

Locating the bathroom, Mustang quickly finished his needs and looked at himself in the mirror. The shirt was a little loose, but still fit. The pants were slightly tight, but the shoes were unbelievably comfortable. Havoc was also wearing similar clothes, while Breda and Fuery were still running around in their uniforms. Hopefully, they would find the right clothes to blend in.

A sound brought Falman back from his thoughts, and he turned to see a group of men, all with similar clothes slowly surrounding the vehicle, some staring, some chuckling. Looking over at the driver's seat, he couldn't see anyone inside. Gritting his teeth, he looked back at the slowly encroaching group.

"Well, well, well! Look what we have _here!_ Fine little Cady, and all gassed to go!" the man turned to Falman, his grin full of deceit. "So, you wanna do this easy? Or there gonna be problems?"

"Look, I don't want any trouble, okay?" Falman said, putting his hands up. "I'm just a…tourist. I'm a little lost, so, if you could just help me out-"

"Oh yeah, we'll help ya! We'll show you the hospital you don't hand over the keys, boy!" said another man, pulling out a switchblade. Falman looked at the knife, then back at the driver's seat. Thankfully, he saw it was completely lowered, the lieutenant already armed.

"Sure…sure I'll give you the keys…Just let me get them from my girlfriend…"

"Ha! Even better!" said a younger man, looking like he was barely over eighteen. "We get a little side action! So, where is she?" he said, hungrily eyeing the "Cady".

"Just let me open the door, okay?" The leader nodded, and Falman slowly opened the door.

As soon as the door was opened enough, Hawkeye rolled out onto the pavement, firing as she dove. The bullets drove their way into the arms and shoulders of the men, as Falman hid behind the door, drawing his own pistol. The criminals screamed in pain and shock, their own weapons falling harmlessly to the ground. However, more came from the side. Spotting them, Falman yelled, "Lieutenant!" then started firing at them through the windshield. The shots were slightly deflected, but did their job, forcing the men to dive back to the side. Deciding the first ones were sufficiently disabled, Riza aimed at the feet of the others on the other side, and fired again, each bullet striking true. The men cried in pain, falling to the ground. "Falman! Gun!" she cried, the W.O. obliging by tossing the steel to her. She fired again, this time at the enemy's arms, disabling their ability to fire on them.

The whole gunfight lasted less than two minutes.

Mustang and the others quickly ran from the apartment, looking around, surprised to find the men on the ground. "Well, that's some quick work, lieutenant. Good job, both of you." The pair nodded, as the colonel looked over the scene. "I think it's safe to say leaving the vehicle here is a good idea. Grab their weapons and cash. No I.D., though. Breda, Fuery, take what clothes you can." He walked over to the nearest one, who was busy clutching a bullet hole in his lower arm. "Don't worry, let me take care of that." Kicking away the man's right arm, he seared the man's wound shut, causing the wounded man to pass out from a combination of pain, blood loss, and disbelief.

The others did the same, grabbing whatever they could, then sending their prey into la-la land. However, approaching sirens put a quick end to their foraging. "I think we've overstayed our welcome. Let's move, now. We only have minutes until the authorities arrive."

With that, the group slipped into the alley and out the other side, separating over short distances, for only seconds or minutes at a time, until they could reach a place to stay, as cars labeled "_Trenton Police Department_" flew by, sirens blaring into the afternoon sun.

* * *

"Hey, captain, I just thought'a somethin,'" Gunner said from the back. "What if it wan't a Nod weapon that brought us 'ere. What if it was…well, what if it's sometin' else?"

"I've been thinking about that too," Parker said, as he drove past a large motorcycle dealership. "But that's our only real explanation. Nobody really knows what Nod's been developing during the war, so who's to say _what_ got us here." A curse in Hebrew suddenly came from the passenger's seat. "Something wrong, Hotwire?"

"It's the date, sir," the woman answered. "For some reason, it keeps reading that it's the middle of spring, six years into the future!"

Parker looked at Hotwire, then at his surroundings. On the whole, there was nothing that would instantly indicate that they were in the future, but slowly, now that he had been told the discrepancy, he started looking around. Even then, he couldn't find anything that would jump out as being futuristic. Smaller cell phones and civie computers. "Let's just focus on getting to the city. We'll figure out the rest from there."

* * *

**And the redux of chapter 2! Hope you're all appreciating the reworking I'm doing, it's not as easy as you'd think. Chapter 3 up soon, so standby!**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Motel Spell

* * *

As Gen. Von Esling looked over the wrecked test center from his Chinook, his mind was solely focused on secrecy. If any Soviet agents got word, there would be hell to pay in the field, and that was something he didn't need his top commander to get any more of.

"Stavros," he murmured, turning to his Greek counterpart. "How long would it take to clean up this…mess?"

"That would depend on how many men are still alive," the Greek answered, scribbling like mad on a piece of paper. "Fortunately, Einstein and a most of the research staff were evacuated before the device imploded in on itself. Another one can be constructed in…eight months."

Von Esling stared at the Greek. "_Months? _Stavros, zere is a _var_ going on! Ve need zis invention to defeat Stalin vonce and for all!"

Stavros stared at Von Esling, then looked back at his notes, frantically flipping through paper after paper for better information. "Uh, um, ah! Here, another area we can use to construct a chronosphere, without any Soviet discovery!" He unfolded a small map onto an empty seat in the chopper. "A small island off the coast of Britain. Large enough to hold the research staff and buildings, and far enough away from the Soviet controlled areas of Europe."

"Vat about Soviet agents?"

"I've had some of our own put in place for the garrison forces that we could put in place to guard the facility, specially trained in counter-espionage. If they suspect any of the soldiers or staff of being a Soviet agent, they will dig, until they hit anything suspicious. At that point, the suspect is immediately transferred to an isolated base, with no communication."

Von Esling nodded, then looked out onto the landing pad. "_Time to face ze music_," he thought, as the chinook touched down.

* * *

The sky was darkening as Parker and the others finally entered Philadelphia. Traffic was light, and the sky shone through the broken windows of the abandoned factories on the riverfront. The city skyline was lighting up, as planes flew in to land at the airport nearby.

"Hotwire, see if you can't find a motel or anything nearby. We're dead, we can't just show up and ask for a ride."

Nodding, Hotwire surfed through the GPS, until, "Turn off onto the James Street exit. Then right onto Bridge Street, and another right onto Torresdale Avenue. There's an inn a few blocks down called _McCarron First Inn_. However, I think we may have a slight problem checking in," she said, looking down at her uniform.

"She's right, captain," Deadeye said, rubbing his hair. "We'll have to do something you may not be too fond of."

"Whatever it is," Parker said, "I'm sure it's not as bad as you make it sound."

As the lone clerk at the inn absent-mindedly surfed the web, he heard a car screech outside on the street, followed quickly by the slamming of doors and an argument. Seconds later, a group of cheery, laughing people in strange clothes waltzed through the door, two of the men supporting a third between them.

"Um, we're looking for a room for ze night?" said the lone woman of the group, the college student intensely focused on her skin tight top.

"S-sure!" he said, vaguely reaching behind him and grabbing a key at random, not wanting any of the view to go away. "Here, room…14." Then, as they thanked him and started to walk away, he asked, "Hey, why're you dressed like that?"

"Oh, we're here for ze convention," the woman said, as they moved up the steps to the room. Watching them leave, the attendant sighed.

"Whoa. Pretty hot for a nerd."

As Gunner and Patch shifted Parker onto the bed, Deadeye eyed them quizzically. "Did we really have to knock them out?" he inquired, seating himself on the moldy couch next to the small, barred window.

"It was either that or have him go through an epizode," Hotwire said, locking the door behind her. "I still don't get why he didn't want to do it, though. It's not like we're asking him to dress as a woman."

"It's just 'is mindset," Gunner said, stretching. "Man grows up all tough and 'ard, the prospect of acting like something that's soft and weak don't exactly appeal to 'im."

"I don't know, I've known some pretty tough nerds in Mossad," Hotwire said, shaking her boots off. "Ah! That feels a little better."

"Wanna take the rest off?" Gunner jokingly asked, the others laughing a little.n"Seriously though," Gunner said, moving to the window. "What's the plan for the naval base? We've got no ID, no plans, and I haven't seen one bloody GDI office since we got 'ere. It's like the 'ole world just decided to throw us one big steamin' pile."

"Agreed," Deadeye said. "But first things first. We need a new car. Police will already have a lookout for that one."

"It's simple," Gunner said. "Switch the plates with another car. We get pulled over, the cops'll check out plate, and-"

"They'll realize that our SUV has the plates of a Honda civic." Patch got up and walked to the door. "I'm going to look for a newspaper, you guys just stay put."

The three commandoes just made a particularly rude hand gesture as the German walked away.

* * *

"I don't get it! How could they just vanish like that!" Ed screamed, slamming his fists up and down.

"Maybe _they_ got to them," Al whispered.

"No!" Ed screamed, his voice starting to break. "The colonel wouldn't go down without a fight, none of them would! They would've done something to let us know, a sign or a bullet hole…something…"

Sgt Brosh followed silently behind, focused only on his orders to protect the brothers at all costs. With the disappearance of one of the State's top alchemists, Fullmetal was no longer an asset, he was a national treasure.

"Brother, what about the…the _others_," Al whispered. "They're still out there. Maybe they have answers on what happened to the colonel and his team!"

"Not likely they'd tell us, Al," Ed answered. "We're up the creek without a boat this time."

* * *

"So, have we gained any new information on this country yet?" Mustang said, looking over one of the newspapers from the lobby of the "motel".

"All I can gather is that things are essentially the same as in Amestris, just with better technology," Fuery replied. "Here's an article that says the technology of this country advances every eight seconds!"

"It also puts a little too much focus on celebrities," Breda stated. "Funerals, births, adoptions, it's like celebrities don't have their own lives, just moments in front of the cameras."

"This says the country's economy is going downhill fast." Falman folded the paper he had been reading. "Those dollars we have are losing value too fast for the people to keep up with. Added to the fact that oil costs seem to be on the rise, it's no wonder the people in this country seem angry."

"I can't find any mention of alchemy, sir," Fuery said. "It could mean science might have taken a radically different course as well."

Mustang nodded, then looked over at the box in the room. "Well, wanna learn how that works?" No one answered. "I know." Carefully, gloves ready to snap, he went over and pressed the "power" button.

"-Atest news from Levittown states that the shootout occurred between two rival groups, the identities of which have yet to be confirmed. Police have already denied it was any organized crime syndicate, and are already running through lists of potential suspects."

"Interesting. It appears that this box has the capabilities to transmit information over wide areas. If every building in this country has a box like this, the people can be constantly informed." He frowned. "Which makes hiding that much harder."

Riza looked over the guns they had taken from the criminals with interest. "These weapons are much more complicated than ours, sir." She held one up, a black pistol that Havoc could instantly see the difference on.

"Hey, there's no hammer!"

"Exactly. Plus the magazine," she said, sliding it out for effect, "Has a higher capacity than even our latest rifles." She slid the mag back into the pistol. "They've clearly devoted a lot of effort into their military technologies sir, and if even street thugs carry these around, I can only imagine what the police and actual military have."

Roy nodded, then looked over at the clock. "Breda, you take the first watch, then wake Fuery after three hours. Everyone else, lights out."

* * *

Walker rubbed at his eyes as he poured over what little data there was to go on. While the sketch artist took down the details of the perps, he and a few other cops were tasked with bagging, tagging, and organizing the evidence. Not that there was much to go on. A few bullet casings and pieces of a vase with blood on them. DNA was already being sent for further analysis, as fingerprints were put into the state AFIS database.

"Man, this is taking forever," one of the men said. "None of these prints match any of our priors, and the state database has nothing either." The man slid a hand over his face. "At this rate, we'll have to go to the Fed database."

Walker sighed. "Great, just wonderful. We have no real evidence, no useful eyewitness accounts, and we've only just put out APBs on the vehicles the suspects are using." He looked up at the ceiling. "We're gonna have to go to the Feds, guys, like it or not."

* * *

"Captain, I need intel. What's the situation in the village?" Locke barked into the ship's console.

Captain Tuller, ground commander of Locke's forces, shook his head as he talked into his EVA. "Sir, there's no chance of finding the Mobius girl in this town now. We've taken in a few Nod prisoners, but, without proper interrogators, I can't get a thing out of them."

"Very well, captain, keep me posted." Shutting off his own interface, Locke rubbed his eyes furiously. As the day slowly faded to night, he couldn't shake the feeling in his heart that things were going to get even worse now that 6 was MIA. The attack force was barely kept together, men and material dangerously spread thin. That would mean requisitioning more forces, which meant questions from the higher ups on how five top commandoes were lost without any reason at all.

"Damn you, Havoc," he said. "You can't even disappear without causing me trouble!"

* * *

The distant popping of pistol fire made it hard for Breda to even relax, much less sit back. True, Central and East had their problem areas, but the city of Trenton made those look like quiet farming towns. Sirens wailed into the night sky, as he worriedly watched out the window. "Man, what'd we do to deserve this?"

By morning, Riza was on watch, and the team was now getting up from an uncomfortable rest. The prospect of sleeping in a clearly hostile area didn't lend itself to well to sleep. "Alright, how much money do we have?"

Fuery looked over the bills they had gathered. "Seems to be around thirty or forty in here, sir."

"Fine. Take a five dollar bill with you to the lobby, look for a newstand or anything like it, grab a paper. If we don't keep current, we might as well turn ourselves in. Havoc, you and Breda go look for a place to eat. Falman, you and Hawkeye go look for the nearest barber shop."

"What about you, sir?"

"I'll just go for a little walk, Havoc," he said. "Now move, we're burning daylight."

* * *

As Parker's eyes opened, he noticed two things. The first was the aching pain at the base of his neck. The second was his team all in civilian clothes. "Where'd you all get those?"

"Salvation Army," Hotwire replied. "C'mon, we've gotta get to the Naval Yard."

As they drove through the city, they saw there were no major indications that they were anywhere else but the US. Clearly, something had gone wrong in Afghanistan, for the media to get a hold of the operational information of what was going on, but that was secondary. Right now, they had to get back to Locke, and from there, get Sydney out of captivity and probably destroy whatever research she had been forced to make.

"So, captain, we have a plan on actually gettin' into the base?"

"I've been thinking about that myself, Gunner, and I think I have a plan." He sighed. "We'll use code X-Ray."

The SUV became silent. "Sir, I thought that was only used for-"

"Desperate situations, yes. But this _is_ a desperate situation, Hotwire, and we need to get straight back to Locke. I'll leave whether it was necessary or not to the higher ups."

Reluctantly, the others nodded their consent, as the car speed to the yard.

* * *

As he walked down the street, Fuery was honestly surprised by the sights he saw, trying his best to keep his face neutral. There were cars everywhere, a few looking older than was apparently the standard. On some buildings, strange objects poked up from the roof, what looked like a sort of radio receiver. Metal boxes extended out of windows, and antennae lined the roofs.

"_My God_," he thought. "_These are only civilian structures…What on Earth could their _government_ be using?_"

Eventually, he found a small corner store, and was surprised once again by the inside. An elongated camera pointed at his face from the ceiling, and another box showed him at the door. Rows upon rows of food were neatly aligned, with see-through iceboxes near the back wall.

"Excuse me!" Snapping out of his trance, Fuery looked over at the man behind the counter, a dark skinned man with a thick mustache and sing-song accent. "Please, either buy something or leave the store!"

"Sorry," Fuery said. "I just need a paper."

"Over there, by the candies," the man said.

Walking over, Fuery couldn't help but marvel at the wide selection of goods in such a small store. There were sweets, toiletries, even what looked like automobile products, all lined up on the shelves.

Finally locating the papers, he gave the man the money and left, hurriedly moving back to the room.

"This is bad," Mustang said, looking at the news. In the local section, the paper had a picture of the house, along with some descriptions of both Mustang's team and the other soldiers inside. "We'll have to be doubly careful now. We'll also have to cut and dye our hair, give ourselves some kind of disguise. Hawkeye?"

"I've found a barbershop. It's pretty deserted right now, it should do the job"

"Lead the way, lieutenant."

A few minutes later, they found themselves at the _State Barber Shop_, only two men inside. One looked to be in his thirties, the other around his seventies. Both were muscular, and both had any number of improvised weapons inside.

"Alright men, we'll secure some more money from the surrounding area. Lieutenant, you find a women's salon, change your look as well."

After an hour and a half of rummaging through the houses, the group returned with at least enough money for a haircut each, maybe with tip.

"Well hey there, boys!" said one the older bald man. "Haven't seen you before here! Welcome to the State Barber shop! I'm Joe, Joe Festa! That guy over there is Bruce!"

"Nice to meet you," Mustang said, sticking out his hand. "We're new to town, we were just looking for a place to get neatened up."

"Well, by my guess, you really don't need it, but that'd put me outta business!" Joe said, laughing. "Alright, who's first?"

"Me," Falman said, walking up.

"Alright, then." Draping the smock over Falman, the barber quickly got to work, as Bruce did the same for Breda.

"Hi, welcome to the _Hair Cuttery_," said the woman behind the counter, her nametag reading "Monique". "Do you have a reservation?"

"No, actually, I'm just coming in, spur of the moment thing," Riza said, doing her best to act normal. Whatever that was now.

"Hm," said the attendant, pressing buttons on a strange plastic box. "Well, we do have one seat open. Just a haircut, or-"

"I'd actually like to dye and perm," she said.

"Well, that comes to ninety dollars, miss."

"Of course," Riza said, counting out what money should had managed to find. Thankfully, she had three twenties and three tens.

"Alright, the stylist will be out in a moment. If you'll just have a seat,"

Nodding, Riza took her place in the waiting area, making sure to grab a magazine to find out more. However, all the magazines were of celebrity gossip or childcare, nothing about the nation they were in. "_Damn, what is _wrong_ with these people?_"

Roy tapped his foot impatiently with the progress. The bald man had only just started working on Havoc, as Tony finished up with Fuery. Carefully, he shot a look at Havoc, who nodded. "Uh, say, Joe, is there any way you can make this quick? Not tryin' to be rude or anything, but we've got a few things to do today."

"Oh, sorry bout that, young man," Joe said, smiling. "But I'm used to taking my time with the customers, getting to know them, see? Like already, I can tell you're all military types." The surprised faces made both men smile. "See? I'm right, aren't I? So, what branch? Army, Marines?"

"Army, actually," Fuery said without thinking.

"Hm, where from?"

"The Eastern HQ," Mustang said, cutting Fuery off. "We were just recently discharged."

"Ah, I see. New life, new look. That's sharp there, young man. Take charge, you go far, that's what I always tell my younger customers."

Mustang nodded, thankful the man didn't ask too many questions. By now, he was scanning the shop, finding himself drawn in by the place. Pictures lined the walls in various conditions. Family gatherings, men in uniforms, children. Hats covered the edge the ceiling, from normal bowlers and poor boys to a wide-brimmed hat that looked like it was made of straw. News clippings and phrases adorned the mirrors, saying things like, "Those who sell their liberty for temporary security deserve neither liberty nor security." "_Wise man, whoever said it,_" he thought. It was strange to see the pictures of the men in uniform on the wall as well. Even in the most patriotic parts of Amestris, the members of the military were treated with suspicion, at worst treated as hostile enemies. Here, members of the military were respected, almost revered. "_Must be nice for them,_" he thought, reading the paper, as Joe started to sing a song, "_Everybody loves somebody…sometimes_.

As the attendant worked on her hair, Riza let her mind wander for once, something she hadn't done in a long time. Her thoughts kept going back to the Third Institute, and the blank space of time between the blue flash and her waking up in the middle of the road. She remembered stalking through the corridors, Alphonse behind her-

"_Alphonse!_" she thought, eyes going wide. "_He doesn't know where I am! He and Edward don't know where we are!_"

"Girl, you gonna look good after this!" the stylist said, lowering Riza's head into the basin. "But why you wanna get rid'a this hair!"

"I just felt like I needed a new start, you know?" she said, doing her best to mask her concern. "Besides, my old boyfriend…"

The woman nodded, her face showing her understanding. "I know, honey, I know. Don' worry, odds are he ain't never gonna find ya. Now, jus' close your eyes, let me work some magic."

Nodding, Riza closed her eyes, doing her level best not to worry. After all, it was the Elric brothers she was thinking of.

She started to worry more.

"Alright, young man, that's five cuts!" the barber said, whipping the smock off Mustang. "That'll be eighty, all told."

"Alright," Mustang said, reaching into his wallet and pulling out the money they had scavenged. Not bothering to look at it, he simply handed it to the man with a nod, then headed for the door.

"Up! Hold it, young man!" Mustang froze, turning slowly. "This is only sixty, I need twenty more."

Nodding, Mustang looked to the others, then started rooting around in his own pockets, desperately searching for more money. However, all they could come up with was small bills, not enough to pay the tab.

The barber laughed, waving it off, much to their surprise. "Not to worry, young man. Tell ya what. Since you're all just moving in, and since you were all in the military, I'll let you all go for now."

Letting out his breath, Mustang nodded. "Thank you. I promise, I'll pay it back someday."

"I'll hold you to it, young man," Joe said. "Have a good day, boys."

Waving, Mustang and the others quickly sped down the street, back to their room. They still had some work to do.

* * *

"Alright, kids, we're here." Looking out their windows, the commandos saw the gates of the Philadelphia Navy Yard waiting for them, and, God willing, a way to get back into the field. Pulling in, Parker eyed the civilian guard at the gate, casually but alertly checking the vehicles entering the compound. Patiently, Parker watched the gate edge closer and closer, ready to recite the phrase he had hoped never to say.

"Welcome to the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. If I could see some ID-"

"Captain Nicholas Parker, serial number 18462-A3R3, November Alpha Zulu, Code: X-Ray."

The man looked at Parker like he was insane. "I'm sorry, sir…could you repeat that?"

Havoc growled. "Look, you green little punk, I've got a bit of a problem here, so I need you to send that message to the Pentagon pronto! Or do you _want_ Nod to win this war!"

"Sir, I don't understand what you're saying," the guard said, hand moving onto his sidearm. "If you could just step out of the car, we can talk about this-"

"Are you freakin' _deaf!_" Parker screamed, the man backing away. "What, did you forget your training or something, I need to get in here!"

"Sir, I can't let you in without some positive identification," the guard said again. "Now you can leave and that will be it, or I will have to force you out of the car." In the gate, his partner was talking into a radio, probably calling for backup.

"Havoc, it's not working! Let's just leave!" Hotwire said.

"No dice, Hotwire. I'm going to make this punk understand proper treatment of superiors!"

"Sir, if you threaten me again I will use force!"

Out the windshield, Deadeye saw a pair of pickup trucks rounding a corner, the markings showing more security had arrived. "Captain, we'd best be leaving now!"

"Sir, what's the problem here," said a new voice. Turning, Havoc saw a staff sergeant walking up, hand also on his holster.

"Captain Nicholas Parker, serial number-"

"I don't care what your name is sir, without a valid ID I can't let you back on base-"

"Okay, screw this," Parker said. Before anyone could say anything, he gunned the engine and slammed the SUV through the gate of the base, making sure to ram one of the pickups for good measure. Opening the door, he simply kneeled on the ground, hands over his head, and went prone.

"Beautiful job, captain," Deadeye said. "I don't think you caused enough damage, though. Next time, make sure to punch one of them in the face."

"Oh shut it," Parker muttered, feeling a barrel at the back on his neck.

* * *

**And chapter 3. So if anyone here likes the (attempted) improved chapters, let me hear it in a review.  
**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- Through Jersey

* * *

"Where is she!" Mustang barked, pacing the room. "She was supposed to have been back by 1300, it's 1430!"

"C'mon boss, it's Hawkeye," Breda said, keeping his voice calm. "You really think she'd go down without any kinda fight if she was caught?"

"Breda, we're in a completely different situation than back in Central! We have now sure way to signal each other, no means to communicate securely, we don't even know where or _when_ we are! She-"

"Colonel, it's me," came Hawkeye's voice from the other side of the door. "Sorry it took so long, the salon took longer than I would have thought." Unlatching the locks holding the door, the colonel opened them and felt his jaw fall to the floor.

The woman in front of him barely resembled the stern and upstanding Lt. Hawkeye. Her hair had turned a light red, shoulder length and with a perm. The room was silent for minutes before Hawkeye started talking again. "I also decided to look around for dyes for men, and I found a few that you should all probably use. After all, just cutting your hair isn't going to fool the authorities for long." More silence. "Sir!"

"Right! Dye! Money! Falman, Havoc, get on it!" Mustang ordered, snapping away from his surprise. "Fuery, turn that box on, we need to gather some information."

As the soldiers rushed off to follow their orders, Riza shook her head. Why did people always act like that over a sudden change?

* * *

Ed walked down the street kicking an old can before him. After two days, they still had no word on what had happened to Mustang or his staff. The MPs were still searching all possible leads, but nothing they had panned out.

"You think maybe Scar got to them?" Al said, walking close behind his brother.

"I don't think so. He may be a killer, but hiding bodies doesn't seem like his style." Ed looked over at a newsstand for a second, and saw no trace of the colonel or his team on the papers. "It looks like someone is covering this up as well."

"So it probably _is _them, huh brother."

Ed nodded. "We need to find a way to capture one of them, find the information we're looking for. But how do we capture a homunculi?"

"I dunno, brother," Al said. "But unless we can think of something fast, we'll never see the colonel or the others ever again."

"Hey, lieutenant, isn't there anything we can do to help?" Sgt. Brosh said, as the pair walked behind the Elrics.

"What _can _we do? They're the closest things to experts right now, we'd probably just get in the way. And with Major Armstrong taking up most of the work in the office, we're the only one who can really watch over them."

* * *

"So, what really did happen that night?" Wrath asked, Envy and Lust standing before him.

"I can't really say, Wrath," Lust said, shrugging her shoulders. "One minute, I'm following the colonel and his pet idiot, then they disappear. All I remember is a flash of blue lightning."

"Maybe it was alchemy? Some trick to make them disappear? After all, we can use the same technique."

"Impossible," said the Doctor, coming out from a corner of the room. "There weren't any transmutation circles anywhere in the area. I know, I checked the area myself. Mustang should have shown up by now."

Wrath nodded, then looked over at Envy. "And what were you doing during all of this? Why weren't you keeping tabs on Mustang's men?"

"Tch! What, you really expected me to watch over some small fry soldiers?" Envy said, his sneer acidic. "Really, Wrath, as the youngest of us, you should know your place."

"At least he understood his duty," said Pride's voice, floating through the air. "That's the second time you've failed, Envy, and if it costs us, you will be punished severely. Now all of you go back to your places."

"Of course, Pride," they answered, Envy's face a picture of rage.

"You don't think Envy will go the same way as Greed, do you?" Wrath asked, folding his hands.

"Of course not," Pride said. "He may be a pest at times, but he knows what would happen if he disobeyed Father, and he doesn't want anything to do with that."

"If you're sure," Wrath said, rising up. "It seems the parliament has found its legs again. They've called me to a special session to discuss the continuing losses of national alchemists. They could be trouble."

"Don't worry," Pride said, leaving. "If any of them become a problem, it would be too easy to take care of them."

* * *

"So, now that we've finished," Mustang said, looking at his newly blond hair. "We have to start moving." Looking back over his men, he couldn't help but look confused. Havoc had gone from blond to red, Falman's hair had turned raven black, Fuery was a redhead, and Breda had brown hair. With their new haircuts as well, it made him feel like he was in another world. Well, in an even _stranger_ world. "Fuery, what have you found?"

"Well, we're in the state of New Jersey," he said, spreading a map he had found over one of the beds. "On the country's eastern seaboard. There are large cities to the north and east, New York," he pointed to with his finger, "And Philadelphia. A little farther to the south is the capital city, Washington D.C. If we're going by time, Philadelphia is the closest. However, I don't think we should go there. If the news in this country is able to be transmitted that quickly, then the authorities there would find us far too quickly. I recommend we go to New York, then gather more information when we're there."

"Good job, Fuery. Falman, how much money do we have?"

"About $379, sir. If you want, I can go to the nearest train station, find out how much a one way is."

"As soon as we're done, Falman. Well, if anyone else has any suggestions, now's the time to voice them."

"Just one sir," Breda said. "I think we should spend at least a day or two getting to know how things work in this country. How the people act, things like that. Once we've gathered enough information, then we should get moving."

Mustang thought for a minute. If they waited too long, there was an increased chance the locals would find them. But if they left too soon, and didn't get to know how things worked…

"Good idea, Breda. Everyone, let's split up. Look for libraries, newspapers, magazines. We need as much information on current events as we can get. Breda, you're with me. Hawkeye and Fuery, move east. Havoc, you and Falman go north. Let's move."

* * *

"So, what now?" Ed said, collapsing on his hotel room's couch. "The Colonel and his team are missing, the homunculi aren't anywhere to be found, and Ling just disappeared on us."

"I wouldn't say that," Ling said, appearing in the window, followed by Ed and Al's surprised shrieks. "Nice to see you both again."

"_Why the hell do you keep doing that!_" Ed yelled.

Ling shrugged his shoulders, still smiling. "For fun, I guess." Sighing, he leaped into the room. "I've heard your friends are missing, so I'd think you're more than a little concerned."

"A little," Ed said. "Listen, I can't go anywhere without escorts. I need you and your duo to keep an eye on the enemy. Is that possible?"

"Well, we could try, now, couldn't we?" Ling said with a smile. "All I need is a day or two to call some support."

"Support?" Al said, surprised. "What do you need support for? You nearly beat us back in Rush Valley!"

"Yes, but we'll need more help for a situation like this." He suddenly looked dead serious. "We're dealing with things that aren't well known to anyone! My clan can have men here in a few days, men who can help us get ahead of the enemy. Unless you have any better suggestions."

"Well, no…" Ed and Al said, looking at each other sheepishly.

"It's settled then!" Grinning, Ling opened the door and walked right out, to the shock of the lieutenant and sergeant. "I'll have the word out in a few hours, so just wait."

"Um, lieutenant, did you just-"

"No! I didn't see or hear anything!"

"_What kind of escorts are you!_" Ed screamed, as Ling whistled as he walked away.

* * *

As the days passed, Mustang and his team gathered a wealth of knowledge about the nation, or at least what they could find in the library. They learned the terms, the cities, the names, even did their best to learn the slang. But the real test would be when they actually moved for the city of New York.

"Alright, I've looked through crime records, and I think this area is the best to hide out in," Falman said, pointing on a map to an area called "Morris Heights". "It's a dangerous area, but if we keep a low enough profile, the authorities shouldn't notice us too early."

"Are we sure?" Fuery said. "There's no guarantee that the criminals in the area won't cause us trouble as well."

"We'll just deal with them like we did with those others at the house," Mustang said, making the decision final. "There's just one more thing we need to do."

* * *

It was a slow day, Joe throwing his tennis ball against the wall of the shop, taking in the sun and beautiful summer weather. The street was quiet, the midday sun warming the sidewalk. As he threw the ball over and over again, he wondered idly if the men he met the other day would ever really pay him back. Looking down the street, he saw a pair of men in black suits walking towards the bank nearby, both holding their hands in their pockets. "Ah, why'd you have to do this, boys?" he said, picking up his cell phone and dialing the police.

Fuery and Havoc walked past the front doors to the bank, doing a quick survey through the windows before deciding that they would follow the plan. Donning the masks the Colonel had made from the motels bed sheets, they burst through the doors, guns bared, firing a few shots before Fuery went to the teller, Havoc standing next to the door, keeping his gun pointed at the people inside. Silently, gun at the ready, Fuery slipped a note to the teller behind the counter. "10,000 in small bills, now or you die". Shaking, the woman took the note and opened her drawer, pressing the silent alarm with it.

"_911, what's your emergency?_" "Yes, I'd like to report a bank robbery on East Lafayette, two men, armed, definitely dangerous." "_Sir, could you please give me an address, or else-_" A pause on the other end. "_Sir, we've received the alarm, the police are on the way._"

Havoc kept careful watch on the people in the bank, ready to shoot at anyone who got it in their head to be a hero. The women, they were either shaking or keeping calm, not willing to be shot. It wasn't sexism, though, it was instinct. Women who could bear or had children would not put their offspring in danger by taking away a source of protection and nourishment. The men, that was the danger. The men in here, they seemed white collar, for the most part, nice suits and fancy shoes, but there were two other men who clearly didn't have money on their side. They looked at each other, quickly, slowly moving, ready to leap-

Havoc fired, two holes in the floor in front of the men. They looked up, scared. Havoc frowned beneath the mask and shook his head, cocking the hammer back again. Then, outside, a siren. Taking a look, Havoc saw a police car speeding towards the building. Sighing, he shook his head. "Looks like the Colonel is gonna have to put on a show."

The New Jersey State Police. One of the most famous and infamous police agencies on the East Coast. Tasked with both patrolling Jersey's highways and the protection of its governor. Who holds office in Trenton. Along with multiple state offices. One of which is located near East Lafayette. Anyone who didn't expect the State Police to show up first did not live in Trenton long.

"They're here, sir," Hawkeye said, looking at the situation from a nearby parking garage, watching the officers take cover behind their car. "Should we still make it happen like this?"

"We're rapidly running out of options, Hawkeye." Pulling on his gloves, Roy looked over the street and sighed. "Don't worry, I won't hurt them that bad."

"Dispatch, this is Baker 1-3, we are outside the building, we have one suspe-AAAAAHHHHH!" The trooper cried, as he and his partner were thrown to the ground by an explosion. Their car was on fire, the interior melting and popping as electronics fried and spare rounds went off. In the bank, Fuery grabbed the bag away from the teller, and he and Havoc ran outside, making sure to grab the guns and magazines from the police before moving to the parking garage.

Joe watched in shock as the police car went up in flames, frightened for the first time in so many years. The police were on the ground, knocked out by the men from the bank, their guns stolen. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief.

"Mr. Festa?" Turning, he saw a woman in a mask, holding both a twenty and a gun. "Here, payment for the other day." With that, she dropped the twenty on the ground and ran, leaving Joe standing in the street, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Mustang looked over the scene, the car burning bright even in the day. Looking to his left, he saw another car driving towards the scene, and lit the road in front of it, the car swerving to a stop, the police inside jumping out and moving away. Looking over at the parking garage, he saw the Riza and Breda walking in the opposite direction, planning on taking a winding route to the train station. Fuery and Havoc should have already gone behind the barber shop and started changing into their civilian clothes. Snapping off one more flame at another oncoming car, he ran to where Fuery and Havoc were also running, joining with the crowd that was vacating the area.

* * *

"Hey, Walker! Turn on the TV, there's something goin' on in Trenton, could be our guys!" Leaping out of his chair, Walker hit the power on the TV, the screen turning to a news room.

"_Breaking news from Trenton, it seems a series of bombs have gone off to cover a bank robbery near the New Jersey capitol building, we have __**not**__ gotten any video yet, but from what can be validated, the assailants are two men, and have already destroyed on New Jersey State Police car, and have at least injured two officers.._"

"Get me Detective Hanlen, now!" Walker screamed, calling a friend in the Trenton department. The phone rang over and over, and Walker was mumbling to himself now. "C'mon, you dumbass, pick up!"

"_Hey, Doug, I'm kinda busy right now, if you handn't-_"

"Eric, listen to me, I know who these guys are, they hit a house here! Roll out with everything you have, canvas the train stations and bus stops! These guys _will _disappear if you don't act know!"

"_…I'll get on it._" The connection cut, and Walker rushed for his own car, his partner following him. "Hey, Doug what're you thinking!"

"We've gotta at least get something on these guys, Steve! Now get in, we've got work to do!"

* * *

As Mustang, Havoc and Fuery walked down the street, they were careful to avoid making any eye contact or any police that were rushing towards the scene. They moved fast on East Front Street, passing a park on their right. "Fuery, give me the bag."

"Yes, sir," he said, handing the money over to the Colonel. "What're you planning on doing with it?"

"I want to make sure there's nothing in here that'll catch us off guard. Once we're at the cemetery, we'll make sure everything's in order before moving on, understand?" The duo nodded. "Good."

Miraculously, Hawkeye, Breda and Falman had arrived as well. "Good. Well, let's open this thing up and see what we have." Ripping the bag open, Mustang was coated in red paint, flying backwards, smacking his own face. "GAAAAAAHHH!!! GET IT OFF! GET IT _OFF!_"

"Forget that, the money's ruined!" Breda said, picking up a wad of tens dyed red. "Damnit, the plan's finished, Colonel!"

"Sir, are you alright!" Riza said, grabbing the Colonel's shoulders. "Sir, can you see?"

"Argh, I'm fine, Hawkeye," he said, wiping the paint away from his eyes. "Damnit, what was that!"

"Something that caught us off guard, sir," Havoc said. "Looks like things are gonna be a little more difficult from here."

"No it won't," Mustang said, wiping most of the paint off his face before it could dry. "Lieutenant, hand me a rock."

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye said, quickly grabbing one and handing it over. "But sir, with all due respect, isn't this kind of alchemy not your specialty?"

"You'd think," Roy answered, drawing a transmutation circle on the ground. "But I wouldn't think you of all people would underestimate me." Drawing out the circle over a grave, Mustang piled all the money in it, and pressed his hands down. A quick flash, and the money was back to normal, the paint pooling in the grass. "There. Now let's move, the station should be across the road there."

Walking in, they paused for a split second to scan the station, before getting in line for tickets to New York.

* * *

Sirens wailed as firefighters put out the blazing wreck of the first car on the scene. The gas hadn't ignited, mercifully, though the hot metal had the capability to ignite it any second. EMTs checked the officers, though their injuries were minor. A cordon was already being formed, though any chance of catching the perps was gone. Now it was evidence. It made Walker furious. "C'mon, let me through here! I'm a detective with Falls Township, I have a connection to this case!"

"Doug!" Looking over the Trenton cop holding him back, he saw Det. Mike Hanlen running towards him, waving the cop away. "Dude, head back home, we're a little busy-"

"Mike, for the love'a Christ, get some people to the train station, now! These guys are moving out now, and if you don't stop them-"

"I've already gotten some undercovers on it, they're sweeping the station now. Don't worry, these guys were pretty sloppy. We'll find them soon enough."

"Oh really!" Walker yelled. "Did your investigators check the cars? Where were the bombs? Why didn't they go off for any civilian cars, why didn't anyone report them!"

"Jesus, Doug, get a hold of yourself!" Steven yelled. "What the hell's gotten into you!"

"I agree, Doug," Hanlen said, rubbing a nicotine patch. "You're usually cool as a cucumber. What's gotten into you?" He scratched his graying hair, and looked over towards the blast site. "I know, it's weird. But hell, there's plenty of explanations why things are like this."

"Oh really?" Walker said, finally calm. "Then why did they hit so close to a government building? Why did they not kill anyone?"

"I'll chalk it up to a _very_ good coincidence," Hanlen said. "Now, why don't we all just deal with our respective jurisdictions and handle this, okay?"

"Detective!" Turning, they all saw an officer running towards them. "Detective, we have a witness! He says he knows who did this!"

"They came in a few days ago, I gave'em all a cut, figured they were just nice guys, you know?"

"I see, Mr. Festa," Hanlen said, Walker and Steven standing by the door to the barbershop. "What can you remember about them? Any distinguishing characteristics?"

" Two with black hair, one tall, one short and with glasses. A blonde, a fat redhead and a tall one with gray hair."

"Older man?"

Festa shook his head. "Nah, they all looked like they were in their thirties or somethin'. Came in, asked me for a few cuts. Said they were all ex-Army."

Hanlen looked up, over at Walker. The detective nodded, then walked over to the barber, pulling a few pieces of paper out of his coat pocket. "Were they similar to anyone on this paper?"

Taking them, Festa looked over them carefully. "Only five of them, and only the men. Who are they?"

"We don't know yet, sir," Hanlen said, peeling off his patch and taking out a new one. "But they may have some connection to a home invasion that occurred a few days ago. Now, can you identify the men in this picture, please?"

Nodding, Joe took another look at the drawings. "This one's nose is too flat, it needs to be pointier. And him, the redhead, he has a face that's a little rounder."

"And what about the woman?" Walker asked. "What did she look like?"

"Don't know," Joe said, rubbing his head. "She was wearing a mask."

"And where did they say they were from?"

"They just mentioned how they were from Central HQ, that's all. Um, not to be rude, but can I get back to work here?"

"Sure, sure, Mr. Festa. Just don't be surprised if we call you in for some more questions, okay?" With that, the three detectives left. After a quick handshakes and a few assurances from Hanlen, Walker and Steven were on their way back.

* * *

"Man, that guy looked a lot like a muscled George Carlin, didn't he?" Steven said. Silence. "Um, Doug?"

"Where did he say they were from?"

Steven paused. "Um, the Pentagon, I think-"

"No, he said they were from 'Central HQ'. I've never heard of a base named Central, have you?"

"Well…maybe it's one of those bases you don't hear about too much? I mean, we've got bases worldwide, maybe it's foreign or something."

"Maybe," Walker grunted, as he drove towards the bridge.

* * *

"So, any idea when the investigators are gonna show up, 'Avoc?"

"For the hundredth time, I don't know, Gunner!" Parker said, pacing around the holding cell. "They'll get here when they get here, and that's that!"

They had been confined for hours, the Marines outside careful to isolate them into individual cells until the NCIS team could arrive. Until then, Parker was busy thinking up a plan to escape. He wouldn't say Nod had infiltrated the Corps, but when base security didn't recognize the one emergency security code every member of GDI had to remember from basic onward, it was especially disquieting.

"Hey Gunny," Cpl. Turner said. "I have _never_ seen weapons like this before!"

Gunny Franklin nodded, holding a pistol in his gloved hand. The design made no sense in his mind, the grip looking too small to accommodate the action and slide. The slide itself was located in an outer casing of some kind, the hammer placed in a similar manner to a Glock, but looked like it was silenced without any external silencer.

Cpl. Turner was busy looking over an assault rifle, hefting it for comparison to an M16. It was bulky, but it shot a larger round than a 5.56mm, so it was possible that the extra bulk was there to compensate for the recoil. Again, the weapon appeared to have a built in silencer, but such an idea just wasn't feasible with today's current thinking. And the hundred round magazine only raised further questions.

Sgt. Yung was trying to dismantle a sniper rifle, but the design was too foreign to recognize. The scope was huge, and even appeared to have a sort of directional mike, but why?

The grenade and rocket launchers were put in a metal case until their explosives could be removed. The grenade launcher wasn't all that different from others they had seen and trained with, but the rocket launcher was an astounding piece, appearing to have a magazine of rockets. Until an expert could be brought in, no one was touching the device. Other enlisted filled out various papers and taking photos of the other weapons they had grabbed, including other pistols, what appeared to be plastique, and even a type of cylindrical beacon.

Finally, there was the strange piece of metal that they had found in the trunk, looking like a more conventional directional mike, but with wires connected to a trio of canisters on the stock. And until the investigators could arrive, they wouldn't dare touch the thing.

The phone on the wall rang, and Pvt. Yung carefully placed the rifle on the table, walked over to the phone and answered. "Base Security, Pvt. Yung speak- Yes, sir," he said, and the Gunny sighed. It was the base commander, probably asking again for any new information. Philadelphia had not seen any major terrorism case, but now, with this incident, there was no telling what the repercussions would be. Even with the facility being one of the primary mothballing port for the Navy, it was still a military target, and one surrounded by civilian structures. Terrorists seizing the facility would send the city into an uproar. That was something no one needed. "Yes sir, we're examining their weapons…No, sir, we haven't found any information on them yet…Yes, he's right here, sir." He turned to Franklin. "It's for you, Gunny."

Sighing, he took the receiver from the Private. "Sir."

"_Franklin, what have you figured out?_" the Commander said, his voice masking his impatience about the lack of concrete findings on the people who had tried to infiltrate his base.

"The only things we've found are the weapons they use, sir, and these are not normal weapons."

"_Well, what can you tell me about those?_"

"All very advanced, sir, and all very odd. The pistols are all strangely designed, for one. Their rifles are incredibly powerful, they have a rocket launcher with a magazine…Sir, we are not dealing with run of the mill terrorists. I think we're dealing with some kind of saboteur unit sent by a foreign power."

The line and the room froze. The implications of what the Gunny said were staggering. Infiltrators meant that a foreign power was planning something bad for the US.

"_That doesn't explain all the accents, Gunny._" The Commander said sharply, quickly trying to eliminate such a possibility until he was proven otherwise.

"I agree sir, but this is all very odd. I'd like your permission to speak with each subject individually before the investigators get here."

The line went silent again, the Commander doing his best to figure out what the correct decision was. "Where's your CO Gunny?"

"He called out, sir. It's his son's birthday, so he wanted to take him to the Phillies game today."

"_Wonderful. No Gunny, we're going to wait for the professionals. I will allow you to get the basic details on them, but that only. Do _not_ interrogate them any further._"

"Understood, sir." Waiting for the other end to hang up, he slammed the phone down and leaned against the wall. "Corporal, come with me to the holding cells. Sergeant, you hold down the fort here, keep examining the weapons, and take some damn good notes, there'll be a test later." Both nodding, Turner followed the Gunny to the holding cells, while Sgt. Yung continued to examine the rifle while the men around him continued their work.

"Heads up, sir," Hotwire said, as the sounds of footsteps echoed through the holding cells. Parker looked up a little, seeing an aged NCO and a younger enlisted coming their way. Scowling, Havoc looked at the opposite wall, ignoring them as they approached.

"You the leader?" the older man said, stopping at Parker's cell. "Maybe you can tell me who you are."

"Capt. Nicholas Parker, GDI Special Operations, serial number A34521BE3X."

"Nick…Parker?" The NCO looked down and shook his head. "You're mistaken. Nick Parker is dead."

"I know, I was there. The information's classified, but if you'll just call Gen. Shepherd-"

"No," the NCO, a gunny by the stripes, answered, his voice angry. "I knew Nick Parker. He was a good Marine, earned a lotta points in Desert Storm. Then he decided to volunteer for a special mission into South America…" The Gunny looked up, angry. "He got blown up because a terrorist with an axe to grind made a suicidal last stand. You are not Nicholas Parker." With that, the Gunny spun on his heel and walked out, the Corporal behind him following, a little confused.

"The hell vas zat about?" Patch said. The rest of the holding area was just silent.

"Hey, Gunny, wait, you've just gotta think about this, you know?" Turner said, sensing the Gunny's anger. "I mean, it's probably just a random coincidence, like in movies, things like this can happen! They probably just looked up a random name, and there it is! They just picked the wrong guy and place to hit!"

"No," Franklin said, showing his anguished face to Turner. "That man really _is_ Nick Parker!"

* * *

"Any word on Sydney?" Locke asked Capt. Tuller, the day after the village had been secured.

"_Sorry, sir,_" Tuller said, the sounds of construction and repair surrounding him. "_There were a few Nod helos leaving the area, but the enemy had mobile SAMs, we couldn't risk the Orcas pursuing them. We're working on tracking the transponder signals from them, but until we get some kind of confirmation, we can't do much._"

"Prisoners?"

Tuller shook his head. "_The Black Hands we managed to find all killed themselves with suicide pills, we never had a chance. The regular Nod are all being handled right now, but I wouldn't hold my breath for them to cough up anything important._" The screen changed to show a tactical map of the area. "_We've set up a perimeter around the village, and I'm sending teams out to investigate the surrounding mountains, though I'd estimate it'd be a while before we really make any progress._"

"Very well, Captain, keep me posted." Switching to a different frequency, the image of Gen. Shepherd appeared. "Sir."

"_Locke, what's our status?_"

"We're still trying to locate both Six and the doctors, sir, but things have taken a turn for the worse." Nodding at her, Lt. Maus brought up a strategic map for the area. "We've eliminated the Nod holdout in the mountains, as well as the enemy positions in the village. However, we've discovered that Nod is starting to field man-portable stealth units and lasers. And that's not all." Maus then brought up a picture of a corpse with green crystals growing out of it, its head malformed, and its intestines visible through transparent skin on its stomach. "Sir, Nod has been experimenting with combining human beings and tiberium."

Shepherd's face told the story, his shock undeniable through the screen. "_Can they be killed?_"

"Mercifully, sir, they can. It appears flame weapons work the best, though just shooting them works as well. However, they appear to heal if attacked with a tiberium based weapon. It's probably not something we should worry about, but it does make me fear a possible infiltration of our fields by Nod units."

"_Is that all, Locke?_"

"Yes, sir. I will report in tomorrow with any findings we make." After the screen went back to the tactical map, showing GDI units spreading out through the village. "Lieutenant, have Capt. Tuller send a force to investigate the mansion to the east. There could still be some Nod technologies we're missing."

* * *

Mustang tapped his foot impatiently, the train taking too long to arrive for his liking. If the police here had any sense, they would've sent officers to the station to check for any suspicious individuals, probably in civilian clothes as well. The train was set to leave by noon, but it was already ten minutes to noon, and it already looked like some of the civilians were looking around too much. Slowly, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket, and started to put on his glove. Hawkeye grabbed the hand and shook her head, the noticed one of the civilians looking at them. Quickly, she smiled, and held Mustang's hand more tenderly, and leaned close to his ear, and whispered, "Don't jump the gun, sir, we still have to make sure we can get back." She pulled her head back, giggling a little, as Havoc and the others just…_looked_ at them. The civilian soon looked away, and the train pulled up, the six quickly moving in and splitting up through the train cars. Soon, the train was away, and Mustang and his team were on their way to New York.

* * *

**I hope I'm not asking to much in terms of reviews, am I? I mean, surely you, the reader, have some feedback on this story, right?**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 The Runaround

* * *

"Stavros," Von Esling said, looking over the pieces of the chronosphere laid out in a hangar in the English countryside. "Are we positive Einstein is secure?"

"Positive, sir," Stavros said, looking up from the latest reports from the field. "He's currently sequestered in Edinburgh castle."

Von Esling looked puzzled by that statement. "Did you just say-"

"Yes, sir," the Greek answered nonchalantly. "It was the safest place we could think to place him. As a guest of the Queen, the British would be doubly concerned with his protection." He looked at Von Esling and grinned. "Besides that, the Queen is actually quite interested to have the professor over. If anything should go wrong, it will be someone's head, probably literally."

Von Esling shook his head. "Why two valuable targets in the same location? We both know the Soviets would do anything to get at them."

"That's why we have them both somewhere else, sir." Flipping through his papers, he gave Von Esling an order of transport for two low level functionaries. "Both of them are actually located in rural Scotland, near an SAS training base. That should make things a tad more interesting if a Soviet agent should try to eliminate them both."

"You're sure this vill vurk?"

"Without a doubt, general," Stavros said, filing the papers away. "Construction of the facilities has already started without any major difficulties, we should have the base moving in three and a half months."

"Very vell," Von Esling said, as he stepped on a pair of glasses lying on the hangar floor. Silently, Von Esling bent down and picked them up, examining them carefully, seeing a letter "H" carved on the frame. Sighing, he set them down again. He didn't want to dwell on whatever fate had befallen the poor man who had worn them.

* * *

"You've done well, Raveshaw," Kane said, his holographic image projected in the General's briefing room. "Now that we have all three of our most valued minds, Project ReGenesis can proceed as planned. I'm quite impressed that you managed to eliminate the Dead 6 as well. You have succeeded where so many others have failed."

"I am truly honored, Lord Kane," Raveshaw said, bowing at the hologram. "Though I must still apologize for the loss of the chateau."

"Inconsequential," Kane said. "All that matters is that the project proceed as planned." Kane smiled a little at the thought of his Tiberium future coming to a head so quickly. "Tell me, Raveshaw, how did you take care of Parker and his team?"

Raveshaw hesitated a little, his eyes darting to the sides of his face before he could answer. "My lord, they simply vanished from the village."

Kane looked at Raveshaw, then laughed out loud at what he had said. "Please, General, there is no need to be modest! And if it was a weapon you were secretly developing, I assure you, there will be no punitive measures taken."

"Lord Kane," Raveshaw said nervously, kneeling down on one knee. "I have read and reread the report on the incident personally…the shadow that captured the Mobius girl reported that the commandoes disappeared into thin air after being struck by…by blue lightning!"

Kane scowled, and without a word, the hologram disappeared, Raveshaw frozen in place.

"Don't vorry," Dr. Petrova said from behind him. "We both know Kane knows more about the odd happenings of the world than all others, in both the Brotherhood and GDI. To worry in this situation would be useless. Besides," she said with glee, "I've already prepared the operating chamber for the procedure. Are you ready to be the first true success of ReGenesis?"

"Of course," Raveshaw said. Without a word, he followed Petrova into the elevator, descending into the last few moments of his humanity.

* * *

"An _outrage!_" yelled the Prime Minister. "An absolute and utter _outrage_ that valuable national assets have been lost in such a short amount of time, Bradley! We demand an explanation for what has happened these past few weeks!"

"As I have stated before," Bradley said calmly, "State alchemists are symbols of the nation, and can be used as political as well as military targets. Parliament was briefed on this many times before the policies on State alchemists were put into effect."

"That was before we knew the true costs of the State alchemist program," the minority party leader replied. "In a situation that has brought all the factions of parliament together, we consider it a vital national issue. In going over the reports on State alchemists, there has been woefully inadequate performance at any task aside from battle, a lack of practical alchemic and scientific research, and quite frankly, we're concerned about the mental state of the alchemists still alive." He grabbed a set of papers and slowly flipped through them. "Tucker, Commanche, Kimblee, and these are the ones we have _evidence_ of. There are dozens of unconfirmed reports of State alchemists endangering themselves, civilians and even fellow soldiers."

"If this hearing is willing to remember Ishval, I think the records speak for themselves." Bradley said, doing his best to be level. Truth be told, he wanted to get this over with, get back to more important business. He was Wrath. He wasn't meant to sit around in a chamber listening to old politicians talk. The promised day approached every second, and he couldn't afford to simply sit around while a valuable sacrifice had vanished.

"Fuhrer Bradley, do you have anything to add?" the PM said, snapping Bradley back to the conference at hand.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I drifted off for a second or two, what was the topic?"

"The one you brought up," the PM growled. "Ishval? The Massacre? What the records are saying is that the program is a horrible mistake! Over a quarter of alchemists and soldiers withdrew from the military, even deserted! Terrorists and separatists started popping up around the nation! And while this hearing does acknowledge the fact that Aerugo and Creta have always eyed our borders, it is amazing that suddenly a border dispute has erupted in such a short space of time, in two completely separate regions. If State Alchemists are so effective, why haven't they been sent to the front to win this with minimum losses to our own armies?"

"As head of the military's operations, I've decided that neither situation warrants the deployments of alchemists to combat areas yet." Bradley said, knowing what was coming next.

"So an underequipped and untrained rebellion warrant millions of cenzs and hundreds of lives, but two border conflicts with two separate nations only need conventional forces?" The minority leader held his head in his hands. "Fuhrer Bradley, you're records as a military leader is beyond reproach. However, on a grander scale, you have most certainly fallen into a slight dilemma. Though this is a time of crisis for the nation, do not think that we will not call an emergency session to order to replace you as fuhrer. That is all for the day, thank you for your time."

Bowing, Bradley did an about face and marched out of the meeting room. Pride was right. There was a need to eliminate some of the members of parliament.

* * *

Ed walked down the street, taking in everything around him. With what was happening, he needed to clear his head, think everything through. From what few reports he had heard, a flash of blue light was what had taken Mustang and his team away to…wherever. "A blue light." He scratched his head at that. No alchemic reaction he had ever seen gave off a blue light. "Al, what do you think happened?"

"I can't even guess, brother," he said, the sound of his body clanking somehow calming Ed, helping him think. "What if it was only an illusion created by 'them'?"

"I don't think so, Al," Ed said. "There has to be a trace, even if it was the enemy! Leaving a body or two is more their style. If anything, they'd of left behind MSgt Fuery or Falman, at least a limb or two…" A pause.

"Brother, you're scaring me," Al said. "You're starting to think too much like _them_!"

"I know, Al," Ed said sadly. "I'm spending too much time thinking about this." Sighing, he stopped in his tracks and walked straight into the nearest restaurant and ordered as much food as he could.

"Brother, what're you doing!" Al said, doing his best to navigate through the crowded tables.

"Eating, what's it look like! Hey, Lieutenant, Sergeant! C'mon, join in, I can't eat all the food I'm ordering by myself!"

Looking at each other, Lt. Ross and Sgt. Brosh silently took their seats and started eating quietly, while Ed wolfed down plate after plate after plate.

"Lookit that," said one of the waiters, a skinny, weasel-like man. "Those dogs eating away our money and food while there's two wars on our borders! Who do they think they are?"

"I've heard Parliament is looking at shuttin' those alchemists down!" said another waiter, piling the scraps from his table on the counter that separated the dining area from the kitchen. "Bout time too. My brother told me what they did in Ishval, those sick animals."

"So what do you two think?" Ed said, pointing at his escorts. "Got any ideas?"

Ross and Brosh both looked up in surprise. "Why are you asking us?" Lt. Ross asked. "We're the least qualified people to make any guesses about what's going on!"

"I know," Ed said, shoving a loaf of bread in his mouth. "But maybe we should look at this from another point of view, understand?"

"Oh, I understand, brother!" Al said, turning to the pair. "What brother is trying to say is that we've started to think along a certain line, and it's going to make it difficult when something like this comes up! Maybe you two could help us come up with some new ideas."

Nodding both started to think, stewing over their thoughts in silence. They both went over the facts they knew, what their enemies looked like, and where they frequented. Eventually, they arrived at an idea.

"What if it _wasn't_ them?" Lt. Ross said.

"Then who could it be?" Ed asked, almost ripping the meat from the bone on a steak he had ordered. "There hasn't been an terrorists attacks in Central for years, why would it start now?"

"Look, we know they didn't kidnap them, at least so far, right?" Brosh said. "Until we can find any evidence to the contrary, they may have been kidnapped by an enemy of the state."

"Another possibility is that they've left on their own." The table froze, staring at Lt. Ross in disbelief. "Well, think about it!" she said. "Mustang doesn't want anything to do with this government anymore! He's just fed up, you can feel it! So he gets all his staff together, finds a way out, and there you go, disappearance solved."

"No way," Ed said. "The Colonel's a lotta things. He's remorseless, a jerk, a womanizer, a sneak, a heartless slave driver…" Ed looked around and saw the other's faces matching his look of admittance. "But besides all that other stuff, he would never leave without a damn good reason!"

"But Ed, the Lieutenant has a point," Sgt. Brosh said, as he wiped his mouth off. "Mustang clearly had a plan in motion, maybe part of the plan was to leave the country while there was a chance for him to get? After all, with all this commotion in the city right now, they could've easily escaped without anyone noticing."

"But if that's what the Colonel really did," Ed said, bending his fork in his right hand. "Why would he do it without telling anyone he could trust?"

Silently, the four left the restaurant to the spiteful looks of those inside.

* * *

Havoc wished he could smoke on the train, that way he could calm what nerves he had left. What he had just seen…the things that were running through his head…through _everyone's_ heads! It was too much, just too much! Terrorists? No problem. Monsters? He could handle those. An all reaching conspiracy to destroy everything he held dear? A _minor_ inconvenience compared to what he had seen.

Hawkeye. The Colonel. _HOLDING HANDS_.

It was inconceivable, an impossibility greater than human transmutation, a cardinal rule against all others that was never to be broken! Oh, they'd had their suspicions, they'd all made a few bets on the matter, but this! What was this place doing to them! Looking around, he saw Fuery nearby, nervously fidgeting with his glasses like they were covered in tar that wouldn't come off. Breda and Falman were probably as worried as he was, and with good reason.

Mustang watched the scenery flash idly by the window, the trees and towns a blur from the speed of the train. This place, this "America", it was a marvel of science. Cars faster than the Amestrian rail lines, and rail lines that could ferry hundreds! Even the police impressed him. They had somehow managed to squeeze a communications post into the space of a car's dashboard, and yet they appeared to work better than the main switchboard in Central. How was it possible, though? He had yet to see any alchemists, no transmutation circles, or anything that followed the lines of practical science back home.

"_Practical science…back home!_" he thought, revelation striking like lightning. "That's it!" he whispered. "Lieutenant, I think I've gotten an idea on why things here are so vastly different from ours!" Hawkeye, however, wasn't listening. Sleep had decided to take hold. "Very well, I'll wait until we get off."

* * *

"An absolute freakin' mystery, Doug, sure as I'm standin' here," Hanlen said, leading Walker and Stephen to the Trenton PD crime lab. "We took samples from the trooper's clothes, their cars, the goddamned road, and not one has given any trace of explosives or man-made combustion." Hanlen smiled slightly. "It's driving the fire marshal nuts."

"And let me guess. No traces of any explosives, right?"

Hanlen nodded. "It's like a fireball just erupted right outta thin air. And then we got a call about this." Reaching into his coat pocket, Hanlen gave some photos to Walker and Stephen. "We got a call from a cemetery caretaker a few hours ago, and we found this over one of the graves."

Taking the picture, Walker stared hard at the pictures. There was some kind of marking all over the grave, crudely carved at that. Another showed a pool of bank bag ink in the grass. "How did they manage to get the ink off?"

"We don't know," Hanlen said, opening the door to the forensics lab. "And Mr. Festa hasn't given us any more information either. Frankly, we're running out of leads fast." Finally, they went into the lab of one of the forensic techs assigned to the case, specializing in molding.

"Definitely five men and a woman," the tech said, laying six separate shoeprints out for the detectives. "This one is a heavier set man, and this one, this one is smaller than the rest, this man is taller. The others are of an average height."

"Is that all?" Walker said, flipping through the pictures. "There's gotta be something else."

"Well, there was this." Going into a drawer, the tech pulled out a series of pictures interrupted by static. "When we started taking pictures at the scene, our cameras were a little off. But after a few minutes, they worked perfectly. Now, we've completely switched from film to digital cameras, but a digital camera shouldn't be showing this kind of problems. However, if there was an electromagnetic spike-"

"It could interfere with the picture." Walker said, looking up. "What could've caused these kinds of EM levels?"

"Well, the earth does have a natural EM field surrounding it, but for this kind of concentration in one area is too great for a coincidence. We've searched for some kind of large electrical device, that usually causes large EM fields, but we haven't been able to find anything. I've requested some specialized equipment, but it'll take some time to get here. If I'm right, it won't arrive in time to actually help us any, but hopefully I'm wrong and we can find something from it."

"Alright, thanks for the info. Don't wait to call if you find anything else."

"This is getting us nowhere," Walker said, storming through the halls of the crime lab. "Those bastards are getting better and better at escaping, and we're twelve steps behind."

"And why did they just start shooting in the middle of Levittown?" Hanlen said. "It doesn't make sense for them to make trouble in the suburbs before they make their move on the bank."

"Maybe they were part of a bigger group that got into a fight?" Stephen said.

"Well, that's not unlikely," Hanlen said. "But it would've been quieter, a few quick bullets and that's it. We wouldn't have seen explosions, period. Too much suspicion."

"Plus the fact that you don't need a big group to rob a bank," Walker said. "You need a few people if you want a good job, enough so that everyone can get away with a decent cut, not so many that you'll have to rob _another_ bank to make up for it."

"We'll have to call the feds in on this," Hanlen said, putting a nicotine patch on his neck. "It's interstate now, it's their jurisdiction." He looked at Walker. "You agree?"

Walker sighed, conceding the point. "Yeah, you're right. I'm a little outta my league on this anyway."

"Alright, I'll put in the call. Better gather whatever evidence you have, get it to me within the week." He shook Walker's hand, smiling sadly. "Don't worry, Doug, I'll make sure these guys go down."

Nodding, Walker left the building deflated. "Hey, man, you okay?"

"Stephen, a man can dream, right?" Stephen nodded. "Well, just once, I thought I'd be able to break a big case in the suburbs, and actually do more than fine kids for graffiti and bust a few drunks."

"Well, c'mon, Doug, we both know that's not gonna happen."

"I know, I know," Walker said, a solemn tone in his voice. "But just once…it'd be nice, understand?"

Stephen nodded, as Walker went to the car, head down.

* * *

Parker clenched his fists over and over again. "Gunner, I swear if you keep whistling that song, I will punch through this wall and beat the hell out of you."

"Got'a do some'thin, cap'n, else I'll go mad."

"Like you were sane to begin with," Parker said, lying down on the cot in the cell. "So how long until those NCIS guys get here?"

"Don't know," Patch said, pacing back and forth. "Argh, if they hadn't taken the EVAs, ve could've called somevone!"

"And done what, told'em the Captain got us landed in the brig?" Deadeye laughed. "I'm sure they'd understand, right? We've only had, oh, a dozen charges brought against us so far, we haven't met this year's quota."

Hotwire remained silent in thought during the argument. Her mind was busy running over the facts. They were in the village, they blacked out, and then they woke up in Pennsylvania. They got into a fight with a group of possible terrorists or criminals, so they had to run to Philadelphia. They had tried to use code X-Ray, and it had failed. Now here they were, in a naval brig, without their weapons or EVAs. The Marines were unresponsive, and one even knew the Captain before he had "died". So how did they get transported from Eastern Europe to Pennsylvania? The Captain had said on the way up that it was from "blue lightning", but that made no sense at all. Lightning didn't just appear out of nowhere on the ground, and Nod weapons were focused on lasers, not electricity. No weapon she had ever encountered had the capability to fire focused beams of electricity at a distant target. It made no possible sense. Still, she had a starting point. Find the device that got them here, find the device to get them back.

Sgt. Yung yawned loudly, the evening coming fast. The Gunny had gone home early, unusual for him, but then again, everyone had their days when an early night was needed. Right now, he was too busy waiting for the Phillies game to come on over the radio. Sure, he was a Cubs fan by nature, but right now, the Cubs were about as good as a foot fungus. He almost felt guilty giving up his hometown team for another. But hey, at least the Phillies had broken their curse. Until then, he was busy examining one of the armband devices they pulled from the suspects. Sure, they couldn't look at the insides, that was reserved for more talented specialists than he. But this device, whatever it was, could clearly be activated. But there were no external buttons, switches or indicators that it could be activated. Maybe it was voice activated? "Power-on." Nothing. "Activate." Zip. "Device iniate." Zilch. "On?" Nada. "_Maybe it's coded to recognize its owner's voice._" Looking around, he saw the other enlisted in the room focused on either paperwork, security monitors, or watching the Phillies pre-game on the small TV they had bought. Deciding they were all sufficiently distracted, he took the device with him to the holding cells.

"Hey, Sergeant, where you going?" Cpl. Turner asked, looking up from his paperwork.

"I'm just checking on the suspects, Turner. Call me if anything happens."

Turner nodded, going right back to the paperwork like a good Marine.

"'Eads up," Gunner whispered. "'Ere comes the Sarn't."

Snapping up from the cot, Parker saw another NCO, asian, only three stripes on his arm. "So the Gunny went home early, Sergeant?"

"I need you to tell me how this works," the man said holding an EVA unit. "It's voice activated, isn't it? Interesting security mechanism. Maybe you'd be interested enough to tell me how it works?"

Parker sneered. "Maybe if you weren't addressing an officer that way, I'd help."

"Until you can provide any kind of credentials, I wouldn't even consider you a private in the Army."

"What was that?" Parker said, his hands gripping the bars. "You should know better, _Sarge_."

Yung quickly brushed the statement aside. "Who does this belong to?"

"How should I know?" Parker said. "I'm just a private in the Army, remember?"

"I can help you," Hotwire said. "It's my device, bring it here and I'll activate it."

"Hotwire, what're ya doing!" Parker said. "We can't let these guys have an EVA, they're too stupid to use it!"

"Then there von't be any harm, now, vould there?" Walking over, Yung held the device close to the bars. So long as her voice could activate the thing, there wouldn't be any problems.

"Hotwire, when this is done, you're grounded from the computer for a month." Parker said.

"Vich one?" she replied. "EVA activation code, operative name; Hotwire; code Romeo Tango Mike 283A1."

A blinking light appeared on the device, and Yung grinned. "Alright, now what?"

"There's one more code to activate it," she said. "X-Ray X-Ray X-Ray 999 1947!" Quickly, she grabbed her mattress and threw it over her body, as Yung tried to throw the device away. Milliseconds later, it exploded, dust filling the room. Coughing hard, Yung tried to wipe away the debris in his eyes, only to be knocked out by a hard kick at his face.

"Thanks for the warning," Parker said, hacking. "Now you wanna get us outta here before we're shot by our own guys?"

"Working on it, sir, just give me a second," Hotwire said. Quickly, she went against the wall to the outside, waiting patiently for the Marines to come barging in. They came as she had hoped, armed and focused on their brother. The first one in had his rifle ripped away, then shoved in his face, throwing him down. The second tried to stop, but was tripped and fell to the ground, Hotwire knocking him out as well and shoving both of them against the door. While the other Marines shoved against the door, she searched the men. "Sir, there's no keys!"

"They're probably out in the office! Get moving Hotwire! And no killing!"

"Of course, sir." Falling to the ground, she waited until the Marines burst through the door. "Aw Christ, what the hell happened?" "Looks like they had a bomb."

"Hey, guys, you gonna just leave a lady lying there like that?" Parker said, pointing to Hotwire.

"Step back," one of the Marines said, two others grabbing Hotwire and lifting her up. Hoping she wouldn't be noticed, she opened her eyes slightly. They passed the doorway, and when they did, she kicked the one holding her legs, grabbed the other's neck, and threw him down on the ground. The rest of the Marines in the office were close to the cells, close enough that the Israeli wouldn't have to work long. She leaped at the first, ducking out of his grasp and punching him in the solar plexus, then kneeing him in a place where all men share the pain, finishing with a jab to the back of the neck. The next was thrown into the wall, kicked in the knees, and got a blow to the head. Two Marines grabbed her arms, but Hotwire kicked her heels into their knees, and sent them both tumbling, righting herself as they descended and throwing one into a desk and the other face first into a locker.

"Looks like we'll be awhile," Parker said, hearing the commotion outside. "Anyone got a good joke?"

In time, Hotwire managed to retrieve their weapons, unlocking the cells, as well as handing them all uniforms. "Sorry, Gunner, but you'll be a bit of a tight fit."

"Not a problem," he said. "Better 'en that cage, right?"

"Enough chatter, we've gotta get moving," Havoc said. "Our best bet is to move on the game, we'll be able to blend in there."

Quickly dressing themselves, they walked out of the building onto the base, careful to avoid other groups of base personnel as they made their way to the nearest exit. Quickly, they found one on the eastern edge of the base. Finding a dirt road, they followed it until they were sure they were off the beaten path of the base. Using Hotwire's gizmo, they cut a hole in the fence, then quickly fixed it. The marks would show, but it would at least keep anyone looking for a gaping hole guessing. Leaping across a small stream, they stowed the weapons in a derelict train car in a nearby yard, and made their move to the stadium.

"Christ…" Yung said, dragging himself up. "Anyone alive?" A chorus of groans answered. "Good." Shakily, he leaned himself up against the wall of the holding area and stumbled out into the main office. "Did they take the weapons?"

"Probably, Sergeant," Cpl. Turner said. "What the hell happened?"

"Worry about that later," Yung grunted. "We've gotta get those guys back before the investigators get here, and-" He paused, seeing some of the men lacking their BDUs. "Aw shit!"

* * *

"So why did we have to drive three hours up to Philadelphia again?" DiNozzo asked. "I feel like I'm getting off a Tilt-A-Whirl after the ride up."

"Six people just tried to break into the Philadelphia Naval Yard," Gibbs said. "We're the only team available to investigate, got it? Added to the fact that one of them appears to be Israeli." He said, looking at Ziva.

"I don't know why they think one Israeli interrogating another is going to do anything," Ziva said, as they pulled up to the main checkpoint. "If this person was trained by Mossad, they won't be easy to break, because they already know what I'm going to do! And I can't use physical force, so there goes that aspect."

"Oh, Ziva gettin' physical!" DiNozzo joked. "Wonder what that's like!"

Like snakes, her arms shot out and grabbed DiNozzo's right hand, squeezing his wrists. "OW! Okay, I get it, I get it!" DiNozzo yelped. Nodding, Ziva let go, as Anthony rubbed his wrists. Shaking his head, Gibbs pulled up to the guard house.

"Evening, sir," the guard said, looking carefully at Gibbs' ID, as another Marine walked the car with a mirror. "Here to look over our guests?"

"Until I'm told otherwise," Gibbs said. Then the Marine's radio crackled to life.

"Front gate, this is brig, we've got a problem! Prisoners have escaped, put the base on immediate lockdown!"

The guard looked at Gibbs, who nodded, backing his car out. Before pulling away, however, he asked the guard, "Is there a game going on over at the stadium?"

"Yes, sir, but-" The guard realized what he was getting at. "I'll alert the local police, sir, tell them you're on your way!"

"You do that!" Gibbs said, handing the guard the number for his cell and Abby's lab, before slamming his foot on the accelerator.

"Guess just watching the game is outta the question, huh boss?" DiNozzo said, as he righted himself in the back.

"What do you think, DiNozzo?"

"Well, it's just, you know, nice to dream of an assignment where we can just go by the book, you know? No shootouts, no chases, just a simple, quiet arrest and that's it-WOAH!" he yelped, as the car took a sharp right.

* * *

As Parker and the others lined up in the ticket line, they did their best to look as normal as they could, though the BDUs didn't help. But now that Parker had the chance to think about it, they weren't exactly the BDUs he was used to. The cameo looked like it had gone through a printer, the patterns edged like pixels on a screen. He'd heard about changing the uniforms, but with Nod making trouble, spending on new uniforms seemed a bit ridiculous.

"You okay, Cap'n?" Gunner said.

"Yeah, but seriously, lose the eye patch, you look like a pirate!"

"And what do you suggest I wear over me eye, then, eh?" Gunner countered. "'S not like I can just make some appear outta thin air, now, can I!"

Nodding, Parker looked around for a vendor or anything, and spotted a ticket scalper with a pair of sunglasses. "Wait here, and make sure we all stay together." Walking over, the scalper spotted him instantly.

"Yo, my man! Always a pleasure to do business with the boys in uniform, now, what'cho want?"

"How much for your sunglasses?" Parker said. The man seemed to blink, then answered.

"$25, no less."

"Deal." Grabbing the wallet in the pants, Parker grabbed a twenty and a ten, shoved the money in the man's hand, and grabbed the glasses from his face, going back to the others. "Here, Gunner, try these on." Taking them, Gunner placed the glasses over his eyes. Like everything else, they seemed too small to make sense. "Well, at least they match the rest of the outfit," Parker said, grinning. Finally, they reached the ticket window. "Five tickets, please."

"Would you like to take advantage of our military discount?" the worker said. "All members of the armed forces can get twenty per-"

"Nope, that's fine, don't want any special treatment, just want to see the game!" Parker said, shoving a credit card through the slot. Nodding, the woman slid the tickets and card back out through the window. Nodding thanks, Parker and the others quickly went through the security gate into the stadium.

* * *

"You're saying one of them actually tried to pass himself off as a Marine?" Gibbs said, Sgt Yung pushing his ear away on the other end of the line.

"_Yes, but the Marine he tried to impersonate had been dead a few years now. Gunny pegged him on the spot for it._"

"How exactly did they manage to escape, though?" Gibbs asked. "Couldn't have been easy."

"_Well, one of their devices self-destructed, had enough force to blow the cell door clean off, knocked me out instantly._"

"I see," Gibbs said. "Can you send my tech any pictures you've taken? Anything at all, whatever you've got."

"_Will do, sir,_" Yung said.

* * *

"Alright, Abby, we're getting the pictures…now!" McGee said. A split-second later, pictures popped up on the big screen in the lab.

"Alright, McGee, time to work some mag-" She paused. "Ic?"

"What, what is it?" McGee said, looking at the pictures. "Wait, what're those guns?"

"I don't know," Abby said. "And I am going to find out if it's the last thing I do!" Typing away like mad, she took the bullets, the serials, everything that could be used to track the weapons, as McGee started to put the faces into an infinity scan. Then, he paused. "Hey, Abby, look at this one," he said, zooming in on the picture of the one who had tried to impersonate the Marine. "Doesn't that symbol on his shirt look familiar?" Looking up, back down, then back up again quickly, Abby shoved McGee out of the way and zoomed in, clearing the picture. "Oh God, this _does_ look familiar! Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't remember!"

"Hang on, it's a bird…a bird of prey…the image is yellow…Damn, I can't think of it!" McGee said.

"Hey, Abby?" Snapping up, both saw Palmer walking in. "Um, Dr. Mallard wants to know if you've finished those blood tests on the John Doe in the morgue." He looked at the screen. "Hey, you guys playing C&C?"

McGee and Abby looked at each other, than at Palmer. "Tell us everything!"

* * *

As Gibbs pulled up to the stadium, his phone rang. Grabbing it, he didn't even have a chance to say "hello" before, "_Gibbs! We have a _major_ problem here!_"

"Easy, now, Abbs, just tell me what the problem is," he said, walking up to security with Tony and Ziva.

"_Boss, these guys are probably completely insane,_" McGee said. "_Palmer's here, he has some pretty good information on this._"

"_Um, well, uh, Mr. Gibbs, sir, I'm, um, pretty sure that, ah…_"

"Would you just tell me," Gibbs barked, getting annoyed, as DiNozzo and Ziva explained the situation to the cops by the gate.

"_Sir, these people are acting like characters from a very popular video game franchise, and it's only a matter of time before they completely lose it, at least from what I know! Now, they're playing the good guys, but I can only guess that pretty soon their grip is gonna slip completely, you have to act like you're on their side!_"

"And who exactly is their side, Palmer?" Gibbs said, motioning to Ziva and Tony.

"_Just say you're GDI, sir, and tell them you're with Gen. Shepherd! The faster you can do that, the faster we can get them into custody!_"

"Got it." He shoved the phone into his pocket. "Tony, Ziva, bring it in for second, we've gotta plan this right."

* * *

As Parker and the others shuffled into their seats, they were grateful it was up in the nosebleeds. This high in the stands, the cameras wouldn't spot them, and they wouldn't get any trouble from the mascot. As long as they cheered for the home team, they would probably get by alright.

"Kaptan," Patch said, pointing to the ground. I've seen three police zo far. I think it vould be a gud idea to-"

"Just play it cool, Patch, we'll get outta here in an hour or two. Sides, the Phillies have always sucked, this game'll be over in no time."

"And it's another beautiful night for baseball, as the Phillies take on the New York Mets, and what a crowd it is tonight, the Phils are on a winning streak like no other."

"That's true, Harry, but the Mets have made a big impact this season too, and the rivalry can only heat things up. Its gonna be an interesting game of baseball, that's for sure."

"That's right Scott. And here's tonights lineup…"

* * *

"Ah, and McGeek _rears_ his ugly head again from the depths of antiquity!" Tony said, acting with gusto. "And here I thought I had broken him of that habit."

"Why must you always criticize his knowledge, even when it helps us!" Ziva said, getting on the escalator to get to the broadcast booth. "We can actually bring these five in _without_ a shootout, just like you wanted, and you still find a way to poke fun at the one who gave us the information." She paused. "In fact, it was _Palmer_ who gave us the information, not McGee, and yet you're still making fun of him!"

"Oh, like it matters!" Tony said, as they reached the top. "Right now, let's just focus on getting these guys in, now!"

"You sure this plan'll work, sir?" Cpl. Turner said. "I mean, those guys are crazy, and they know damn sure what they're doing. Maybe you aughta, hell, call in some backup or something?"

"We've already called the locals, that's all we should need if things go south," Gibbs said, buttoning up the blouse of the service dress. "Well, how's it look?"

"Well, nothing like our regular Gunny, but you'll manage," Yung said, holding a box of stripes from the BX. "Alright, I've got the ranks, and I've managed to get a hold of the lieutenant, he'll meet you at the front gate. You've still got ten minutes until the national anthem, we've already called the management, they've agreed to the plan. That's plenty of time to get out on the field for the 'ceremony'."

"Alright then," Gibbs said, taking the box from Yung. "Let's get them their new ranks."

* * *

"Ladies, and gentlemen, please rise, for the national anthem!" Scowling, Parker and the others rose and saluted the flag. The singer was some girl named Swift, and the crowd seemed to love her, though Parker could care less, as long as it meant getting on with the game. Then, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we also have a surprise event planned for this evening. Would Sgt. Ryan Tanes, Cpl. Matthew Morelli, LCpl. Thomas Ashburn, Pvt. Harlene Quint and Pvt. Peter Goessman please come down to the diamond."

Parker looked at the others, to see them looking at him. Nodding, he barked, "Squad, left _hace!_" As one, they turned, and followed Parker down to the field, where, in front of the color guard, a Marine lieutenant and middle-aged gunny waited for them. Keeping composure, Parker called, "Squad, _halt!_" Then, he marched up to the lieutenant. "Sir, the squad is formed."

The lieutenant saluted back. "Very good sergeant. Fall in." Dropping the salute, Parker pulled an about face and marched into line, while the lieutenant took the mike, as cameramen fluttered about.

"Doesn't Dad look so cool, Mom!" the Lieutenant's son yelled, as his mother watched the big screen.

"Yes, he definitely does, honey. Now listen, they're about to start."

"_Though unusual for such a large event, the Marine Corps and the Philadelphia Phillies management have both decided that these five Marines will be given their promotions tonight, in front of the people they so bravely serve._" The crowd went wild. He turned to Gibbs. "_Gunnery Sergeant._"

Following the Lieutenant, Gibbs opened the cover on the folder and read, "_To all who shall these presents, greetings. Know ye that reposing special trust and confidence in the abilities of Sgt. Ryan Tanes, Cpl. Matthew Morelli, LCpl. Thomas Ashburn, Pvt. Harlene Quint and Pvt. Peter Goessman_, _I do hereby appoint them SSgt, Sgt, Cpl, LCpl, and LCpl in the United States Marine Corps to rank as such from the 18__th__ day of July in the year of our Lord 2009. _" Doing an about face from the mike, he walked to the left of the Lieutenant as the officer shook Parker's hand and said, "The Gunny is NCIS, he'll take you to Gen. Shepherd."

"Bout time," Parker muttered, taking the folder. As they worked down the line, Parker felt some relief. They could finally explain things to Locke, as best they could, and get back to their job of taking out Nod. Finally, the ceremony finished, and Havoc led the others to the halls of the ballpark, to the roaring applause of the crowd.

"A beautiful ceremony, for sure, ladies and gentlemen, as the Phillies take the field for this exciting game!" Harry said, as the Mets went to bat.

* * *

"Bout damn time _someone_ got here!" Parker said. "What took you so long, Gunny, we were worried we'd be brought up on charges!"

"Odds are you will be, Captain," Gibbs said, taking his cap off and scratching his hair. "But you're here now, and we'll make sure you're on the next chopper to get you to Locke." Smiling, he walked towards Ziva and DiNozzo. "These two'll be your escorts. They're NCIS, but it'll make the other Marines happy to see you all going away with Navy cops, at least."

"Myself especially," the Lieutenant said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to my family. Good luck, Captain." With that, he turned down the opposite hallway, to undress and get back to his son.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road!" DiNozzo said. "Everyone get changed, then get in the van, we've got a long drive ahead of us." As they filed towards the Philadelphia police van, Parker looked out back at the stadium and heard the roar of the crowd. The Mets had already ended their turn at bat. "Heh. Guess some things do change."

"So what now?" Ziva said, as the five started to get into the van, a pair of Philadelphia police watching nearby. "We just drive them back to NCIS and hope they behave?"

"Unless you have a better plan, Ziva," Tony said.

"Vait!" Hotwire said. "Our veapons, ve need to grab our veapons!"

Ziva's ears perked up as DiNozzo shook his head. "No go, guys, we've got orders to get you back to DC on the double!" He laughed, turning back to the wheel. "And be glad she isn't driving."

Parker nodded. He'd wait until they'd have a chance. Know he knew what was happening, and decided this was the perfect time. "Gunner, rocker, now!" Nodding, the large Brit shoved himself into the side of the van, throwing Ziva and DiNozzo into each other, as Deadeye and Patch attacked the two police officers. As the three handled the police, Parker and Hotwire went to the front. Ripping the doors open, Parker grabbed DiNozzo and punched him hard in the nose, and left him on the ground, grabbing the agent's gun and knocking him about the face with it. Hotwire went to grab Ziva, but she grabbed the engineer's thrust and kicked sideways with her right leg. Hotwire parried the blow with her shin guard, grabbing Ziva's leg and pulling, Ziva landing hard, but still focused enough to go for her gun. Hotwire hit Ziva's wrist, hitting the barrel of the gun with her other hand, knocking it away. Ziva kicked again at Hotwire's stomach, but Hotwire batted it away, and punching her in the stomach, and slammed her in the side of the head, sending her to the pavement. "Still not good enough," Hotwire said, jumping in the passenger's seat. "Maybe that's why you were transferred to America."

"Friend of yours?" Parker said, as he shifted into gear, and the others closed the back up.

"She's probably ex now," Hotwire said. "Why else would she be part of an outfit like NCIS?"

"Argh, damnbit!" DiNozzo said, gingerly feeling his nose. "Boss' gonna chew my head off for losing my weabon."

"Tony, get up, now, we have to stop them!" Ziva said, grabbing Tony's arm and pulling. "Now, come on, we have to go!"

"Jesus, Ziba, what's wrong with you, de local's are probably already on it!" Pointing, he saw that both cops were unconscious. "Okay, we'll _dell_ dem about what's habbening, but id's still gonna be daken care of."

"No, Tony, that woman was Mossad, she's probably gone rogue! Her death must have been a fake, that's the only explanation!"

"Ziba, focus!" Tony said, grabbing her. "Now listen, we will wake them up, dey will call for helb, and we will exblain to de boss, okay? Do. Not. Banic."

Ziva paused, then nodded. "You're right, you're right! Let's go tell Gibbs, have him call in an airstrike, then-"

"Ziba!" DiNozzo said, grabbing her again. "We don't get airstikes! Now we have to wake up de locals, and take care of dis, okay?" Ziva nodded, then went to wake the police, as DiNozzo called Gibbs.

* * *

"_WHAT!_" Gibbs barked, so harshly that the police with him backed away. "What do you mean 'escaped', how did they pull it off!"

"_Dey used deir big guy to rock de van, dey beat de cops and us! Boss, Ziba said one of them is a former Mossad agent, real bad one too, said she was subbosed to be dead._"

"That's two of them that're supposed to be dead," Gibbs said, pausing. "Did the base security team get any other names?"

"_Uh, I dink so, boss-_"

"Tony, what the hell is wrong with your voice?" Gibbs said, running to the exit.

"_Ah, well, one of dem hit me in de nose wid his gun, so…_"

"I get it," Gibbs said. "The locals here are already calling on the dogs, they won't escape."

* * *

The van slid to a halt on the gravel in the train yard, and Parker and Hotwire leaped out, grabbing their weapons from the derelict train car. As they ran back, the police arrived, surrounding them. "Think Gunner would mind if I used his launcher?"

"Just don't kill-"

"Please, Hotwire, I can cause a distraction at least." Parker said, launching a rocket at one of the cars, the driver swerving wildly. The other cars backed off or stopped, and Parker and Hotwire leapt into the van and speed towards the interstate.

"_This is car 4-3, ah Jesus, you okay, Harley? Oh man, the suspects, they've got some military hardware with 'em, we can't take 'em with what we got! We need a full on SWAT team here, they're headed northbound on 95._" Gibbs looked at the officer's radio before grabbing Ziva and DiNozzo away. "C'mon, we've got to follow them."

"Um, I'll just stay here and helb the locals-"

"_DiNozzo!_"

"On id, boss!" DiNozzo said, jogging to the car.

* * *

"Make a note, we need a new ride once this is over with," Parker said, as the others readied their weapons. "Okay, who's behind us?"

"About half a dozen cars, sir, and a few motorcycles." Hotwire shook her head. "No air support, though. Guess we aren't that important yet."

"I'd like to keep it that way, thanks," Parker said. "Deadeye, you got those windows open?"

"Just about, sir," Deadeye said, smashing at them with his pistol. "I'm guessing Gunner's gonna have to sit this one out?"

"Damn straight!" Parker said. "We just need to get the cops off our tails, not kill them!" He turned to Hotwire. "Any luck disabling the Lo-Jack yet?"

"Almost got it, sir," she said, using Patch's EVA to do the job. "Just a few more seconds and…there, got it!"

"Nice job, Hotwire. Alright, Deadeye, Patch, give'em a show they won't forget!"

"On it, sir!" Patch said, loading a magazine into the launcher.

Gibbs swerved through the cars ahead of him, like water moving through rocks. Left, right, left, left, right, faster than most people ever go driving. Ziva sat next to him, deep in her own thoughts, as DiNozzo held on for dear life. Other drivers honked their horns in defiance, but Gibbs ploughed on through. "DiNozzo, call the lab, ask if they know what these…'character' would do in a situation like this."

"On it, boss!" DiNozzo said, doing his best to dial the number and hold onto the door.

"You get it," Abby said, as she and McGee typed out as many searched as they could for the behaviors of the characters the suspects were acting like.

"Yeah," Palmer said, having long forgotten about the blood samples. "Hello?"

"_Palmer?_" DiNozzo said. "_Whatever. Listen, these guys we're chasing, what would they do if they were in a high speed pursuit?_"

"I don't really know," Palmer said. "They were only around for one game, their characters never got fully developed-" The line went dead.

"Bad news, boss," DiNozzo said, shoving the phone into his pocket. "Palmer can't give us any info, says their characters were only in one game."

"That woman isn't a character!" Ziva yelled. "Her name is Shai Avi, and she was one of Mossad's best agents, especially in demolition!"

"Then why is she acting like a character from a video game with the exact same name!" Gibbs yelled, turning to avoid a semi. They were quickly closing on the chase, the sirens growing louder.

"I don't know, all I know is that the woman I saw was the exact same person!" Ziva yelled. "Gibbs, I do not easily forget faces, and this woman was Shai Avi!"

"Well, we'll interrogate her once we're done here!" Gibbs yelled back, finally nearing the chase, along with a few other Philly PD and State Troopers.

"Dispatch, where's our air cover, these guys are out for blood!" Patrolman Ewing said, as he and the other police came up on the van.

"_Stand by, chopper is lifting off now, ETA, fifteen minutes._"

"Roger, dispatch, we're-" Ewing saw a muzzle poking out of the back. "Oh, shit!"

Patch fired, the grenade landing a few good feet from the lead car. The driver, braked hard, along with the others, though a few made it past and kept going. He fired again, hitting the center divider, showering the police with debris. The motorcycle cops had started to back off, their vehicles of little use in this kind of situation. However, the muscle cars had arrived, their speed quickly outpacing that of the van. Rolling down her window, Hotwire fired the gizmo at the one on her right, the arc slamming into the engine and cutting all power to the car. The driver did his best, but he was rear ended by at three other cars before the others skidded out of the way. The other car had a passenger, though, who was stretching his weapon out the window for the tires. Smashing his own window, Parker fired at the back of the car, forcing the driver away.

"Havoc, I've got a police helicopter coming up on our six!" Deadeye said, looking through his rifle's scope.

"Gunner, you're up!"

Gibbs was finally alongside one of the rear cars when the van's doors burst open, showing three men, one incredibly large, holding…a rocket launcher! Slamming on the breaks, Gibbs narrowly missed colliding with a dozen other cars, as the large man fired up in the air. Gibbs followed the trail of the rocket in the dying sunlight, tracing it towards the police chopper. Thankfully, the pilot had spotted it as well, and quickly evaded the round.

"You see Gibbs!" Ziva said. "That's what I was talking about! She's clearly allied with some very dangerous people, we have to take her out!"

"Ziva, you're not helping!" DiNozzo yelled. "Just let Gibbs concentrate and we'll get an answer!"

Gibbs just gunned the engine again, the Charger leaping ahead. The other police cars had started to back away, but the sight of the black Chevy roaring ahead forced many to the sides of the highway, giving it more room to move.

"Sir, zere's a black car headed straight for us!" Patch said.

"You know what to do by now, Patch! Get them off of us!"

"Yes, sir!" Patch answered, aiming. By the time he turned around, though, the Charger was too close to fire the grenade at without killing someone. "Sir, zere's too close! We can't fire vitout killing zem!"

"Damnit," Parker grumbled. "Everyone hang on!"

Gibbs had almost expected what was going to happen. The van braked, Gibbs pressing down on his own about a half second before the driver, who then gunned the van again, giving Gibbs the opening he needed. There were still civilians on the road, though, and making sure they would stay out of the crossfire would be too difficult. Grimacing, he throttled back, as the van raced away into the night.

"Boss?" DiNozzo said, nervously. "You okay?"

"Tell the locals to put out a statewide A.P.B., these bastards are _not_ getting away!"

DiNozzo and Ziva felt themselves pressing against the edges of the car, desperate to get away from the raging fury they could feel inside the boss.

* * *

The train pulled up to the platform, Riza already wide awake. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she still found herself getting used to the new color and shape of her hair. Sighing, she got up from her seat, the Colonel following behind her. As they walked onto the platform, they saw the others exiting as well, acknowledging they were all together. Locating the way out, they exited onto Manhattan, and found themselves in awe. The buildings stretched high into the night sky, as thousands of lights filled the area. The number of people was enormous, far more than the population of Central. Quickly shaking out of their awe, they moved on, looking for a place that would hide them well. Off they were to the slums.

* * *

**Why is Harry Kalas in the story? Because he's awesome, that's why! And in case there is any confusion, Patch is German, Hotwire and Ziva are Israeli, Gunner's British, and DiNozzo just had his face bashed in.**

**And hey! New chapter means new reviews, right? Right?! (Shivers outside alone in the Northeastern US _glacier_)**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Running Men

* * *

"Lord Kane," said Seraiah, Kane's new right hand. "I've gathered all the files you requested, as well as any pertaining to any similar incidents."

"You've done well, Brother," Kane said, reading over report after report. "Tell me, what happened to that little village?"

"GDI forces took it after the weapon was used. We've lost many brothers, though the casualties on the GDI forces have been severe."

"I see," Kane said, grabbing a new file. "What else have you brought me?"

"Dr. Petrova has reported, she says Raveshaw has gone through the procedure and come out improved, in a way."

Kane looked up. "In a way?"

Seraiah looked nervous. "She said that his higher level brain functions have dropped significantly, though he is still able to understand speech."

"Ah," Kane said, not very surprised. "Well, she still has much time to refine the procedure. Hopefully it will be completed before she attempts it on herself."

"On herself?" Seraiah said. "My Lord, you can't be-"

"There is no need to fear, Brother," Kane said, closing the file and looking for another. "I chose Petrova because she is one of the few people on the planet who truly understood the effects of tiberium on living tissue, and one of the fewer who would understand its benefits for humanity." Shaking his head, Kane picked up another file and smiled. "Ah! Here it is!" He said, Putting it out for Seraiah to see. "Do you know what this is, Brother?"

Seraiah looked carefully at the picture, but shook his head. "I can't tell. I can recognize the vehicles as the same models the Allies used back in the Second Great War, but I don't recognize the structure in the distance."

"That, my Brother, is the structure that won the war for the Allies." He grabbed another file. "You know, of course, that the Allies won by launching a surprise attack on Moscow in the dead of winter, a two pronged assault. While special forces that were there for months moved through the capitol, the main force closed from the outside." Seraiah nodded, but was cut off before he could speak. "Seraiah, I was there, those commandoes were in place for mere minutes." Seraiah shut his mouth instantly. Anyone else, he would call out that statement as a lie. But with Kane, you believed. "I read reports from a few ex-Soviet soldiers, they made mention of a strange blue thunder seconds before they heard the first reports of Allied soldiers in the city. Days later, those same soldiers changed their statements, saying that it wasn't blue lightning, but rather, a simple explosion from the opening shots." Kane smiled. "The Allies were quick to suppress their reports, along with any photos taken of the areas that the commandos appeared." He held up the photo. "This is the device that brought the commandos to Moscow."

"You mean…a teleporter?"

"Yes, when used properly." Kane turned to another page. "It seems Einstein didn't anticipate some of the side effects of the device, namely interfering with the flow of space-time."

"Time travel?"

"Yes, as we've seen here, with the disappearance of the GDI team from that village. And now, since we have proof of the Chronosphere's success as a weapon, we have a method to hunt down and destroy Parker and his men once and for all. What I need is all the data gathered from all devices gathered from the field in the village. If I can find the exact frequency of the energy that took Parker and his ilk, we can also further the cause of Nod in a way never before imagined."

Seraiah's lips curled into a smile. "Of course, Brother Kane."

* * *

"So what neighborhood are we looking for again, Fuery?" Mustang said, as he and his team rested at a subway station.

"Woodside, sir," Fuery said. "In Queens, wherever that is." Fuery scanned the map, looking for anything he could find. "Ah! Here it is, sir!" he said. Going over, Mustang saw Fuery's finger on a large section of the map, titled, "Queens".

"Hm. Falman, what did the books say about it?"

"An ethnically diverse neighborhood, sir," Falman answered. "We won't stand out too much. The books said the primary demographic was Irish, with many Asian and Hispanic ethnicities as well."

"Um, that's great and all, Falman," Breda said. "But what's 'Hispanic' and 'Asian'?"

"Well, a Hispanic is someone that comes from the country of Spain, or any number of countries in the southern hemisphere. 'Asian' is an umbrella term as well, describing those from the continent of Asia. A comparable country back home would be Xing."

"Yeah, but what about this?" Breda said, standing in front of something with a sign above it, saying it would automatically dispense tickets. "Says we need some of the money…Sir, can you give me some of the money?" Taking a one, Breda put the bill into the slot, watching in awe as it was sucked in. The screen changed, and he saw a myriad of options. Quickly, he chose "Subway". A new window popped up, displaying the borough names. Smiling, Breda started to understand at least how to use the machines, if nothing else.

"Hey, move it already, guys, I've gotta get to a meeting on the East Side, could ya speed it up?" Turning, Mustang saw a man, dressed in the most outlandish clothing, a red suit and wearing a white tie and shoes, carrying a jewel encrusted briefcase.

"Sorry, the machine's giving us some trouble."

"Not anymore," Breda said, showing Mustang the tickets. "C'mon, boss, we're gonna be late if we don't hurry."

Sneering, the man shook his head. "Freakin' Jersey idiots."

"The people here do seem impatient," Fuery said, as he and the others went to the platform.

"And oddly dressed," Havoc said. "Crime must pay better here than back home."

"Don't worry, we'll should get there in about an hour, maybe an hour and a half." Walking down another flight of stairs, Mustang and the others found themselves at a platform. Looking around, the only other person there was a young man, the same clothes on him as in Trenton, baggy and loose all over, hands stuck in his deep pockets on his sweater. "_Alright, maybe we'll get out of this without any problems._" Unknown to Mustang, the man's hands were typing away on a cell phone keyboard.

* * *

"You okay, babe?" Walker's wife, Sharon, said, as she walked into the bed room."You've been uptight ever since dinner."

"Oh, babe, I've gotta call the Feds, the chief, the Trenton PD, I've gotta file a dozen reports…Christ, it's gonna be a long month."

"Don't worry, it's gonna turn out alright," she said, getting into the bed with her husband. "They're still looking for these people, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I guess." Flipping off the TV, he relaxed as his wife put her arm over him and kissed him. "Goodnight, babe."

* * *

The ship yard was busy, the first few newly made Templars and Acolytes being directed onto one of the Brotherhood's many ships, a Panamanian freighter whose captain was a long time believer in the vision of Kane. The sounds of metal feet on the metal gangway sounded through the yard, as cranes lowered cages filled with Initiates into the holds.

"I do not wholly trust these mutants, Brother," one of the Black Hand's said, as he watched the process. "They seem to ready to accept what they have become."

"Do you not trust in Kane's vision?" said the second. "These are the first brothers to strike at the very heart of GDI!

"Not at all!" the first said, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "But, seeing the General like that!" Looking over, they both saw Raveshaw stomping up the gangway like a monster. "It gives me pause at the power we wield."

His partner nodded, as the gangways were raised, and the ship set for sea. The course was set. Africa.

* * *

"Okay, the security system is disabled," Hotwire said. "Try to door, Gunner."

Taking a deep breath, Gunner kicked the door hard, breaking the wood inward. Taking another breath, he kicked again, breaking through the door straight through and opening the way into the large house. "'Ope they 'ad insurance."

"Not important, Gunner," Parker said. "C'mon, let's get suited up."

The squad crept through the empty house, a note on the fridge telling the house-sitter what to do. The door led to an immaculate kitchen, all stainless and shiny, even in the moonlight. As they wandered through the house, they noticed small differences. None of the news mentioned Nod, only your run-of-the-mill groups like Al-Qaeda, or Hezbollah. News from Afghanistan, spelling out a troubled conflict that had been going on for… over eight years, hunting down one "Osama Bin Laden. "Hotwire, you ever hear of a guy named Bin Laden?"

"You remember vhen the Chinese attempted to invade Afghanistan?" Hotwire said. "Bin Laden vas one of the leaders of the mujahedeen, one of our contacts ve supplied vith veapons." She shook her head. "Seems he's gone over to Nod, now."

"I'm not so sure," Deadeye said, looking at the paper. Patch and Gunner checked the upstairs, looking for clothes and money. "None of these papers mention any kind of Nod influence. Hotwire, can you find a computer? Maybe we can find out what the hell is going on."

Finding one, Hotwire went to work, using Parker's EVA to hack into the system and access the internet. "Alright, sir, I'm getting results…now!" Clicking on the first result, it took her to a website called "Wikipedia". "Sir, it says that the war didn't start in '95, it says it started after something called 'The September 11th Attacks." Clicking on the link, she brought up the page, and the three felt their jaws drop.

"No…No, this is a joke, there's no way this happened." Parker scrolled down the page, almost shoving Hotwire out of the way, staring at the pictures with shock. He saw an animation of the towers collapsing in a pile of rubble, of the dust billowing through New York. Pictures of the Pentagon, scared by the blast and impact. One of the planes had crashed in some town in Pennsylvania, a place called Shanksville. The site said it was probably intended for another target in Washington DC.

"This never happened…" Deadeye stammered out. "Why is this here!"

"Oy, Cap'n, we found some of what we were looking for." Gunner said, walking down the stairs carrying clothes and money, as Patch gathered up anything else he could upstairs. "What'cho lookin' at? Cap'n?" The three didn't answer. Walking over, Gunner felt his jaw fall as well. "Bloody hell."

As Patch rummaged through the main bedroom, he found a bolted safe in the closet. Fiddling with the lock, he eventually managed to wind up wasting his time. He wasn't a lock pick, he was a medic. He'd have to go to Hotwire, see if she couldn't do anything. Going down the stairs, he still found himself wondering what exactly had gotten them to Pennsylvania. A blue flash was all he could remember from the village. But it wasn't an ion weapon, he knew that. Perhaps this was all a Nod illusion, all of them were trapped in a sensory deprivation area. Nod had certainly tried it before. There'd been reports from captured Hand of Nod's that there were entire floors dedicated to shoving GDI troops in, without any light, so they would be broken to Nod's will or just simply go insane. Well, if that last one was the case, then he had to figure out a way to break the illusion. He couldn't just hit a wall or blow something up. His mind would find a way to fill in the blanks to make sure what he saw and heard was as close to what he knew as possible. Only something drastic would convince him that what he was seeing was real, but what? Walking down, he saw the others staring slack jawed at a computer screen. "Hey, guys, vhat are you looking at?" No answer. Walking closer, he got a look at the screen and turned into them. Only they weren't looking at any terrorist attack on New York. They had moved on to something called "The Holocaust". "Mein Gott."

* * *

"Abby, you're not serious." Gibbs said into his phone.

"_Of course I am, Gibbs, it makes perfect sense! They don't know what's going on, they think you're the enemy, they really are-_"

"They are _not, Abby!_" Gibbs barked. The other end of the line went silent, Abby breathing on the other side, scared from the sound of it. "They just aren't, Abby. Ziva's already identified the assailant anyway, we're gonna prove that your guess isn't right."

"_Gibbs, please! Who do you think would know more about this, me or Ziva?_"

"Abby, I know what I saw, and I know she isn't from some-"

"Excuse me, hi, remember me?" DiNozzo said. "What's Abby's theory, those people are ghosts?"

"Of course not!" Ziva said.

"Aliens?" "No!" "Zombies?" "Of course not!" "Witches?" "No!" "Shapeshifters?"

"No!" Ziva said, turning to face DiNozzo. "Tony, she said _none_ of those things! She said they're-"

"They _aren't_, Ziva!" Gibbs said, banking on a turn. "And Abby, that theory won't hold up, I need hard facts!"

"_But Gibbs-_"

"**NO!**" Gibbs yelled. "Abby, until you can give any information _other_ than what you just told me, do _not_ call this phone again!" With that, he slammed the phone's lid and threw it in the cup holder, the device bouncing up a few feet. Then DiNozzo's phone started ringing.

"Yeah, Abs?"

"_Tony, why won't Gibbs listen to me!_" She whined.

"I don't even know the theory, Abby, you're gonna have to help me, here."

"_Tony! It's obvious! They're from a parallel dimension!_"

Tony just looked ahead, then shut the phone. He had decided he would sleep the rest of the way to DC.

* * *

"How far are we, Hawkeye?" Mustang said, as the train rolled on.

"About five stations away, sir." Hawkeye answered.

"This is pretty impressive, you gotta admit, sir." Fuery said. "Really, the ability to construct an entire rail line underground! I can't even imagine how long it took them to figure out how to pump all the smoke and steam out!"

"I checked, these trains are all powered electrically." Breda shook his head. "Spill it, sir, you have an idea, don't ya?"

"Probably the same one you do, Breda, so why don't you tell everyone." Mustang grinned.

"Of course, sir," Breda said, looking at the others. "Well, the situation is, none of us have seen any alchemy being used, any kind of transmutation circles or anything, right?" They all nodded. "Well, have any of you ever heard of the science of physics?" Hawkeye and Havoc shook their heads. "Well, physics is a branch of science never taken too seriously in Amestris. It's always been on the fringe, though some of its tenants have borrowed heavily from alchemy, like something called the law of thermodynamics. Basically, it says that energy can't be created or destroyed, only transferred, something alchemists have known for years. What I'm saying is that physics must have been more of a focus in this country than ours, and _that's _why things are so different!"

Havoc and Hawkeye just tilted their heads in confusion. Grunting, Breda tried again. "Look, Lieutenant, what's gunpowder made of?"

"Carbon, sulfur and saltpeter," Hawkeye answered. "Why? What does this have to do with physics?"

"Because when all of that is mixed together, it's an explosive. So where does all that energy go, huh? It gets turned into gas and flame, that's what! It means that the material is chemically changed, and turned into something else. Think of it as alchemy without the chemistry involved. There's no understanding the materials, there's just construction and destruction."

"I see," Hawkeye said. "The force that pushed the round out of the barrel doesn't just disappear, it becomes something else! And that's why alchemists can only use the materials available to them!"

"Exactly." Mustang folded his hands. "This nation has somehow found a way around alchemy, advancing monumentally with its understanding of physics." He looked over the train. "This train, it wasn't made by alchemy, it was created by actual labor. That machine, the weapons, they're all non-alchemic. This nation's science is completely alien to us. We don't know what they're capable of."

The man in the baggy clothes just sat in silence. Three more stops. Three more stops and it would happen. He grinned a little, and tapped at his phone again.

* * *

As they pulled into the third to last station, Fuery, Falman and Breda were fast asleep, with Hawkeye and the Colonel well on their way. Havoc was the only one still up, but barely, getting up and walking every so often, trying to keep himself up to watch for any trouble. When they pulled into the station, he saw it. A group of men, all wearing similar clothes and all carrying weapons. Gulping, he tried to wake the Colonel, but the man with the baggy clothes had already trained his gun on Havoc, putting his finger to his lips. Havoc nodded, noting the sideways manner the man was holding his weapon. In fact, they were all holding their weapons that way, or in any other similar fashion. "Mind if I take out another cigarette?" he asked. The man nodded, as the doors to the car opened. "Okay." Slowly reaching down, he waited until half of the men were on, then shot for his pistol. The man in the baggy clothes fired, his shots going wild from his poor grip, for some reason holding the gun sideways rather than upright. Havoc aimed, fired, and hit the man in the shoulder, then fired more shots at the other men. The group was split, some ducking for cover, others trying to shoot back at Havoc, their rounds going wild. By now, the others were up and firing their own weapons, the Colonel snapping his fingers. The blast tore through the car, the gang knocked back by the blast. Their guns were useless, as they scraped and pulled at each other to escape the car before the doors shut. But a few were too slow, and the train departed, leaving the men scared, without weapons, and at the mercy of the Colonel. "What do you think? Medium or well done?"

"Medium rare, sir," Havoc said. "That should make'em learn the lesson."

The Colonel nodded, and snapped his fingers.

As they exited onto Woodside Station platform, Mustang paused to take a look around. The station was clean, none of the usual signs of a bad neighborhood instantly present. After a little searching though, he was sure they would find somewhere to hide until they were ready to move. Walking off with the others, he smiled at the faint sounds of the gang wincing with pain. A light toasting should be enough to set them straight.

* * *

It was barely seven in the morning, but Hanlen was already walking the halls of the Fed building, going to see his FBI liaison for the case. With the information they had gathered from Mr. Festa, as well as what Walker had managed to fax over last night, he knew they at least had some kind of a case against whoever they were chasing. He also knew that a lack of any records meant they were either extremely lucky first time criminals, or they were preparing for this for a long time. Yawning, he walked to the front desk. "Detective Hanlen, here to see Agent Swink."

"One minute, please?" the woman behind the counter said. "You're lucky, he's in early today," she said, a few seconds later. "4th floor, down the hall, third door on your right."

"Thanks," Hanlen said, walking to the elevators. As the machine rose, he went over the evidence, what Walker had told him, but something about the case didn't make sense. He couldn't pin it on anything specific, there were already enough oddities. But if there was one thing that TV could get right, it was that police had a sixth sense, and his was going crazy.

Stepping off, he walked the hall until he arrived at the office of one Agent Swink, and knocked. "Come in."

Opening the door, Hanlen saw a young man, probably around his twenties, looking over the day's paper. "Ah, you must be Det. Hanlen! Special Agent William Swink, nice to meet you." Hanlen took the man's hand. "I heard you were coming, seems you have a problem with a group of robbers moving across state lines. What details do you have?"

"What we've managed to compile here," Hanlen said, placing the file on Swink's desk, the agent motioning for Hanlen to take a seat. "Five men and a woman, current location unknown. We staked out the station, but our undercovers didn't find anyone matching the descriptions we have."

"I see." Swink looked through the files, flipping from page to page. "I heard that they took out some state troopers, too, toasted their cars. Were they pipebombs or something else?"

"Well, that's where we're having some problems." Swink looked up at Hanlen. "The lab results, at least the preliminary lab results, didn't indicate any trace of explosives."

Swink cocked an eyebrow. "So those cars just blew up on their own?"

Hanlen shifted uncomfortably. Being talked to like this by a man no older than his son grated on him. "No, but we think they're using a compound that we've never encountered before."

"Ah," Swink said, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, send our lab what you have, we'll be sure to send you any updates on the case that we make." Getting up, he shook Hanlen's hand, and Hanlen left, scowl on his face.

"_Wonder how they'll screw this one up,_" Hanlen thought, getting on the elevator.

Picking up his phone, Swink dialed one of his friends in the New York office. "Hey, John? Yeah, it's Dave, what's up… Fine, fine, and you… Ha, I know, right… Hey, you hear about the bank job here? Yeah, we'll they've officially handed us the ball… Yup, figured they might head up for you… Really?" He grabbed a piece of paper after he heard the word "subway explosion". "Yeah, these guys seem to like working with fire… Uh huh… _Eight_ bangers? No way… I see. Alright, I'll fax you their descriptions…Yeah, you too… Okay, see ya." Dragging his hands across his face, he sighed. "This is gonna be _fun_."

* * *

"So you agree with me, Wrath?" Pride said. "You realize how troublesome parliament will be?"

"I do," Wrath answered, as they walked through the Furher's mansion. "For humans, they are being quite problematic."

"Especially since we thought we had control." Pride grunted. "I'll make it as quick as I can, but we need the proper patsy."

"I can leak to any number of terrorists that something could happen to their security details," Wrath said, stopping in mid stride. "Here she comes." Turning, he saw his wife. "Ah, hello, dear! How's your day been?"

"Oh, so you had Selim with you!" Mrs. Bradley said, sounding relieved. "When I heard he wasn't with his tutors, I was worried for a minute."

"Come now, dear, you know that I'd never let anything happen to Selim! And I'm sure that if anything did, he could handle himself." He rubbed the "child's" head. "After all, he's a sharp boy."

Selim just smiled at his mother as he clung to his father, and Mrs. Bradley smiled back, none the wiser.

* * *

**Whew! Needed a breather chapter! Anyway, you all know what I'm going to ask you right? WELL I'M NOT! Nope, don't give me _any_ reviews! Give me no feedback whatsoever, I don't need you pathetic and lowbrow criticisms! *Thinking: Please let the reverse psychology work, _please_ let the reverse psychology work!***


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Rifts

* * *

"What the _'ell _did we just look at!" Gunner said, as Parker drove down the PA Turnpike. "I mean…'ow the 'ell did the Germans manage to kill off that many people!"

"Don't go saying 'Germans' like ve vould all do it!" Patch yelled from the back. "Not all Germans vould have done such a thing!"

"Tell zat to all ze lives you ended!" Hotwire yelled. "While ze Russians rolled over Europe, your government dezided to kill of its problems, is zat right!"

"_Both of you, shut up!_" Parker yelled, bringing the SUV to order. "Now we don't know enough to go jumping to conclusions, we need more hard information! Like for starters, why Israel was founded in 1948 instead of 1972, and who this 'Adolf Hitler' bastard is."

The silence stretched on for well over a minute. "I'm sorry, Patch," Hotwire said. "I didn't mean to go after you like zat."

"It's alright, Hotvire," he answered. "I can understand, I guess." He looked up. "But vat does this mean? Who came up with these things, why are they being paraded around as facts!"

"Maybe that was a fake site?" Deadeye said. "After all, it's an encyclopedia anyone could edit, maybe it was all a sort of sick joke."

"And those other sites? The ones that were linked to news stations and government organizations?" Parker shook his head. "We need to go and find someone who we can get the information we need from. And I think I know just where to go."

"The Capitol?" Patch asked.

"Nope," Parker said. "Allentown." Gunning the SUV, Parker drove off, as the sun rose in the sky.

* * *

Andrew Saar looked out over his backyard at 320 Thornridge Drive and sighed. Ever since those…those people had gone through his house, his yard had somehow gone from green to yellow from where the police found the footprints. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out what was wrong, but no matter how much fertilizer and water he used, the grass refused to go back to normal, on top of the repairs he would have to make inside the house. Hopefully he could cover it with the barbeque and hope none of his friends would notice when they came over to watch the second half of the Phil's double header. Home invasion or not, he was going to party. Shaking his head, he went back inside to grab some of the six packs to put them in the cooler.

As soon as Saar was inside, a squirrel ran out from the trees in his yard and ran to the yellow patch, looking for food. Scurrying through the grass, it squeaked in pain and tried to run away from the grass, blood dripping from its paw. It didn't get very far before it seized up and collapsed.

A few hours later, Saar's backyard was packed with friends who had come over for the party, his TV propped up on some cinderblocks so they could watch outside. Burgers and hotdogs sizzled in the afternoon sun, beer was tossed back without care. It was as fine a pre-game as being at the stadium.

"Yo, Andy, those burgers ready yet?" Johnny yelled, as he and another man played beanbags against their girlfriends.

"Almost, just keep your shirt on."

"I'll try, but I don't know if the ladies want me to keep it on!" Johnny said, laughing.

"Yeah, like we want to see your pasty white ass get sunburned!" the man he was playing with yelled, everyone around them laughing as the pre-game ticked closer to the national anthem. Then a scream broke the party apart, as one of the women batted away at her leg, swiping a horde of ants away from her. Looking around, the partygoers realized that a small swarm of insects and other animals were running away from Saar's yard.

"Jesus, what's goin' on?" Saar said.

"They're running away," Johnny said, following the bugs back to their source. Smiling, he bent down underneath a small bush and yelled, "I think I found the problem. You wanna get me some tongs or somethin'?"

Grabbing some from his kitchen, Saar handed the utensil to Johnny, who rummaged around a bit before pulling the proverbial rabbit from the hat. "Well here's your problem, here."

It didn't take a biologist to tell everyone there that the squirrel in the tongs had died a very unnatural death. Its entire body was almost entirely made up of a greenish crystal, its face frozen in a look of agony. Everyone started to slowly back away, Johnny included. But in his haste to get away from the animal, he backed into the grill, its heat searing his back and forcing him forward. Off balance and wearing flip flops, he fell on top of a squirrel, and screamed in pain.

"Jesus, Johnny, you okay?" Saar said, he and Johnny's girlfriend rushing over.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Damn thing just scratched me, is all. Saar, can you please throw that thing away?"

"Yeah, sure," Saar said, grabbing the tongs, Saar almost made it to the can before Johnny started screaming. His girlfriend leaned in close to try and find out what was wrong, but all she could hear from her boyfriend was a series of popping noises and things scrapping against his insides. Looking into Johnny's eyes, Johnny's girlfriend saw them go from brown to green, then almost become a glowing mass. His back bent out of shape, he screamed in pain. The only thing that stopped the screaming was when, as the national anthem played in the background, a large green crystal tore through his mouth and throat. She started screaming to, as she and the others ran through the house and out onto the front yard, a few people getting in their cars and tearing away from the house, two crashing into each other and fouling the street up. Once more, the police screamed up the drive, the two officers to arrive going straight into the backyard, and almost sprinting back out, saying words like "CDC", "Feds", and others that made the rest of the partygoers fear for the worst, Harry Kalas narrating all the while.

"Holy Christ." Stephen just kept repeating those words over and over as he saw the two bodies on the ground. The Falls Township police had managed to round up most of the people who had gone to the party, and were quickly coordinating with other police for those partygoers in other jurisdictions. Walker, meanwhile, was busy interviewing Saar for the second time.

"And then he slams against the grill, and he starts, like, screaming, you know! Next thing I know, he's on the ground, he's scratched himself on that…that _thing_, and next thing I know, he's a God damned diamond!" Saar was pacing around his front yard, twitching nervously. "That is no way to die, man, that's no way to die!"

"I see," Walker said, himself a little unnerved by what he'd seen. In a small part of his mind, a little voice was reminding him to be careful about what he wished for. "And was that all?"

"Yeah, that was it. Man, what should I do?" Saar said, a few of the partygoers looking over earnestly.

"Just stay where you are, we have to make sure none of you have the same thing that killed your friend." Closing his notes, he went over to where one of the EMS was talking into his radio. "How long until those Feds get here?"

"They said they're flying in a team from Pittsburgh now, Detective," the man said. "The liaison said it'd take at least another hour and a half for them to get here."

"Shit," Walker said, looking over at the people they police had made a half-hearted cordon around, as curious neighbors gathered, taking pictures with cameras and phones, a few mentioning "YouTube". "We are going to be in a lot of trouble if they don't get here faster."

A black sedan pulled up near the police tape, and a man and a woman exited, the man showing a badge. Walker grabbed Stephen, to snap him out of his panic if nothing else, and had him follow to where the pair was. "And who do you think you both are?"

"Agents Swink," said the man, pointing to himself, "and Agent Foy," now pointing to the woman next to him. She was Asian, short, hair in a tight bun. "We heard about what was happening, decided it had to do with the incidents that occurred here a few days ago. We're here to lend a hand."

"Sure," Walker said, begrudgingly. "Stephen, can you fill these two in on the situation? I'm gonna make a call."

* * *

The Chief of the Falls Township police was busy fielding calls from half a dozen local representatives and supervisors. When he saw a call from Det. Walker, though, he dropped all the others and practically slammed the button for the line he was calling on. "Walker!"

"_Chief, this thing is getting a little interesting. The Feds have just pulled up, they're offering their 'help'. I know this is their deal now, but I'm a little hesitant. Maybe we should just wait for the CDC guys to get here first._

"No dice, Walker," he said, sighing. "The Feds are going to have to be in charge here. Give them whatever help they need, got it?"

"_But Boss-_"

"Walker, we are into something that is way over our heads here! Feds say jump, you pull out a damned trampoline, got it?"

A grunt, then, "_Yes, sir_."

Shutting his cell a little too hard, Walker looked over to where the Feds were listening to Stephen. Frowning, he walked over. Like it or not, he had a job to do.

* * *

"Well, everyone, I think we've made a major mistake." Mustang said, looking over the calm and peaceful neighborhood called Woodside from a bench he had found. "I don't see any indication that is the area we were looking for."

"Argh! This is just great!" Breda said, as they sat on a bench on the street. "When was that book published?"

"Around 1987, I think," Falman said.

"Then it was about two decades out of date," Mustang said, looking over at a newspaper stand. "We have to get to a worse area, somewhere we can disappear for sure."

"We can't go back to Trenton," Havoc said. "They'd peg us even if we were a mile away. Maybe we should try a library around here, see if there isn't a more recent book that can tell us where crime is the highest?"

"I doubt we really have a choice, Havoc." Getting up, Mustang went over to a woman at a bus stop, who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, hair cut short. "Excuse me," he said, leaning on the sign for the stop. "Where can I find the library?"

"What, so you can check me out?" she snapped, glaring at Mustang, who stepped back slightly. "God, all you men are so predictable!" Mustang tried to get a word in edgewise, but the woman cut him off. "Maybe if you had a better line I would've played along, but you can't even say a word now, can you!" Mustang worked his jaw, desperate for a word to say that would get him out of this mess, but the woman ploughed on.

"Maybe if you'd been smart enough to look, I'm _married_," she said, shoving her hand into Mustang's face, her ring finger sporting a golden band glinting in the sun. "But you were probably too busy thinking with your _pants_ instead of your head!"

The bus finally pulled up, and turning her head away from Mustang, the woman shoved her nose high in the air and got on, leaving Mustang staring at empty space. Slowly, he pulled his ego back together and walked back to the others, falling onto the bench. "Well…that didn't go as I thought it would."

"Maybe we could just go inside a store and ask for help?" Fuery said, as another, more attractive woman walked up to the bus stop.

"I've got a better idea," Havoc said. "Sergeant, I'm ordering you to go and ask that woman for directions!"

"What?!" Fuery said, confused. "But I wouldn't know what to say! I…" He went silent for a second. "Well, I don't really _talk_ to women that much."

"And what am I?" Hawkeye said, looking at Fuery.

"Uh, well, Lt. Hawkeye…you're…well…" Fuery said, stuttering nervously.

"Times up!" Havoc said, grabbing Fuery's shoulders and shoving his towards the bus stop when the woman wasn't looking. Stumbling over, he caught himself in time to avoid slamming into her. Hearing him, the woman turned, her blond hair flipping from her right to left shoulder. Her blue eyes looked at Fuery, confused, not expecting him to appear. "Um…can I help you?" she said, he voice like velvet on the Master Sergeant's ears.

"Uh…" Fuery froze, unable to move. Sure, he'd had girlfriends before, but he'd never even imagined talking to a woman this beautiful before! He was a country boy, he was used to simple women, not the women who were the wives of men with more clout than he would ever have!

"Are you okay?" the woman said, leaning in closer to Fuery.

"Um, yeah…I, uh, just wanted to, er…ask where the, uh, library is?" he said, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking.

The woman paused for a second, but then smiled. "You must mean the main branch in Manhattan." Smiling, he took a transit map from her purse. "I had the same problem when I first moved here. You wanna take the 32 bus across the bridge to 5th Ave. and E. 60 street, then grab the number 5 bus going down 5th Ave. to 42nd St. The library's practically right there. Oh, I almost forgot!" she said. "Here's my number in case you need any more directions."

Fuery could feel himself blushing. "Thank you." He said, quietly. Doing an about face, he walked back to the bench. "Here's what we have to do, sir."

"Nice job, Fuery," Mustang said, seeing just the bus they needed was only a half hour away. "Alright, we'll need change. Everyone split up and grab some quick food, we'll meet back up in fifteen minutes." Nodding, they split up, Havoc and Falman heading towards a small store with a large "7-11" on the front, Mustang and Breda going towards a walk-in restaurant, leaving Hawkeye and Fuery to go to a coffee shop. Looking back, Fuery saw the woman wink at him, before getting on her own bus.

* * *

Looking over the advancing Soviet army leaving Poland and going into Germany, Kukov reached into his coat pocket for a cigarette. The advance into Allied territory had been slowed to the south of the German-French border, so the current strategy was being reworked, pushing an armored division through Luxemburg towards Metz. Intelligence predicted light resistance from the garrison forces still left in the country, since most of Luxemburg's forces were focused on the areas surrounding the Italian and Southern German borders. Taking a smoke, he looked over the advancing battalion moving over the Elbe, it's tanks tearing the ground and grinding the roads. Small UAZ 4x4s ran the convoy, as supply trucks waited at the staging area.

He was at a loss to explain how the Allies kept holding them back this way. The Soviet Army had the more of everything, and all of their supplies were better than anything the Allied forces could muster. They had rolled over the German forces on the Polish border. Greece had fallen in under a month. But the Soviet Army had, like so many who had invaded Russia, forgotten to factor in the one thing that made a man capable of anything. The Allies had less and less to lose. And the less a man had to lose, the more he was willing to fight for. His tactics were sound, his forces well trained, but the men were starting to lose some edge, making small mistakes that the Allies could take advantage of faster than could be rectified. What they needed was to break the line in France and punch through the Allied resolve. German and Greek divisions were already falling apart thanks to the loss of their homelands. The Italian forces were easily contained by the very mountains they thought would protect them in the North. What needed to happen now was the capture of the shipping ports in the North of France and Belgium. With those under Soviet control, the Allied Naval capacity in the North Atlantic would be severely crippled, and with it, their main launching areas for raids on Denmark and Norway.

Taking another drag, he thought about the mysterious man that had advised Stalin of the new strategy. That bald mysterious man, who always seemed to appear out of nowhere with bad news for everyone in the room but Nadia. He seemed so unassuming, odd for those high in the Party. Kukov had had favors called in from friends in the GRU and KGB, but still had not found anything about the man useful. He resided in a small apartment, he was single, and there was no arrest record. He had no record of any higher education, or even a birth certificate. This man, whoever he was, should not be in any Soviet institution, let alone head advisor to Stalin.

Snuffing out the cigarette, Kukov made a note to investigate this after the campaign. Turning, he went to his personal car, to accompany the division to its next engagement.

* * *

As the CDC people cleaned up their gear from the backyard and quarantined the people at the party, the FBI and Falls Township police quickly spread the word about those who were at the party who had fled. Stephen was busy with the Bristol PD, as Swink and Walker talked over their next move.

"Okay, so they started here," Swink said, circling the area on a map of the PA-NJ border. "Then we got a report of five people trying to get into the Philadelphia Navy Yard," he said, circling Philadelphia. "Add to that the call I got about a few burnt gangbangers in New York that matches what happened to the Trenton cops," he circled New York City. "Looks like they're splitting up, moving North and South."

"They're not making it very far very fast," Walker observed. "Why not just hop on a plane and take it to where they need?"

"Trains would make more sense," Agent Foy said. "Airports are too risky to go through if someone's wanted, and you said they're all carrying various weapons. Trains would be the easiest way for them to get around without being caught on the spot."

"That settles it," Swink said, pulling out his cell. "I'll call up the office, tell them to contact New York and other regionals, tell them and the locals to canvas any train and bus stations."

"Now hold on, that's just insane," Walker said. "We have no affirmative description of six of these people, let alone what they're capable of! They see a cop closing in on them, hell, even a civilian calling them in, who knows what would happen!"

"That's not your call, Walker," Swink said. Walker tried to go on, but a quick glance from Foy silenced him. It wasn't an angered glance, though. It was a "Just forget about it, he'd just do it anyway" type of glance. Nodding, Walker conceded. "Fine. But make sure you emphasize how dangerous these people are."

* * *

"Sir, look at this!" Yoki said, holding a newspaper up for Scar to read. Grabbing it from the smaller man's hands, he read that Col. Mustang had disappeared, along with most of his staff. It also said that the nation was at a loss, confused about what was going on.

"We're going back to Central," Scar said.

"What?!" Yoki wailed. "But no one there would even look at us without turning us both in! Sir, I _beg _you, please reconsider!"

Scar just kept walking down the road. "Sir, Sir wait for me!" Yoki yelled, realizing Scar would probably have left him behind.

Since their leader's capture, the members of the East Area "Blue Group" had struggled to regain their foothold. A few petty crimes and robberies had given them money, but they didn't have nearly enough manpower to get them anywhere. Their headquarters, a rooming house in New Optian, was under surveillance, and no one dared to make any moves until they had the proper plan in place.

The phone rang, and the current leader grabbed it. "Who is this?" he said, not used to taking phone calls.

"_The MPs watching your building will be called off in two days. Gather all your guns and explosives, and leave for Central. Go to the Moelston Hotel, you and your men will have two rooms for yourselves. Wait there for further instructions._"

"Hey, wait, who are you?" the leader of the Group said, just as the other line clicked. Looking at it, he turned to the others. "Get all the guns and stuff ready, we're making a move to Central!"

* * *

**Had to reupload this one because of a mistake. Sorry for the confusion for those of you who were paying attention. Grab a cookie if you noticed the mistake, you earned it.**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Location, Location, Location

* * *

"Any word from Gen. Grumman?" Armstrong asked Sgt. Brosh. Due to the current situation, and the possibilities presented by Lt. Ross, the Court Martial officer had decided to put out all points bulletins for the six missing soldiers to all area commands.

"None sir," Sgt. Brosh said. "In fact, Gen. Grumman said that the idea that Mustang would run off is too ridiculous to comment on." He looked up nervously at Armstrong, waiting for an response.

"Hmm. I have to agree, it just wouldn't be like Mustang to run off to parts unknown without a valid reason. What about the other commands?" he asked. "Have we gotten any communiqués?"

"Both Western and Southern HQs have agreed to keep a keen eye out for Mustang and his staff, but Northern HQ stated that it would be too easy for Mustang and his people to disappear into the snow, so they won't be too keen on searching."

"And the 'special' message I asked to be sent to Briggs?" Armstrong said, a harsh gleam in his eye, making Brosh lean back slightly.

"Uh, well, I sent that message," he said, digging through the papers. "And the response was…" he looked up at Armstrong, then back at the paper, then back at Armstrong. "Was too impolite to state in the company of a superior officer."

Armstrong looked nervous as well. "I truly pray that Mustang and his team didn't go North," he said. "Or they'd pray that the cold would kill them."

Brosh nodded. "Other than that, sir, there's no other information concerning Mustang, just the usual bits of old cases coming up for appeal."

"I can handle those myself, Brosh, thank you," Armstrong said, motioning to the empty tray where he put his unfinished work. "Just leave those there, you get back to keeping watch over young Edward."

"Um, do we really have to sir? After all, he's probably more capable of protecting the Lieutenant and I than we are at protecting-" He stopped, when he saw the Major look up from his desk with a twinkle in his eye, and Brosh knew what was coming.

"OF COURSE IT IS!" Armstrong said, his shirt once more gone into thin air, massive muscles somehow managing to sparkle in the room's lighting, the other staff doing their level best to ignore the usual act. "IT IS OUR DUTY TO PROTECT A FELLOW SOLDIER, SERGEANT, OUR DUTY! NOW GO, AND DO YOU BEST TO PROTECT THE BOY!"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" Brosh said, double timing out of the room. Smiling, Armstrong went over to the tall closet that he had put in the office and pulled out a fresh blouse. Being of money did have it's advantages, after all.

* * *

"_So they still haven't found any trace, huh?_" Pinako asked, the concern in her voice clear over the phone. "_You don't think they died, do you?_"

"Nah," Ed answered. "The Colonel's too stubborn to die and not go out without a fight. Wherever he is, he's hidden pretty damn well. How's Black Hayate?"

"_He's so sad, Ed,_" Pinako said. If they were having the conversation in person, Ed would see the old mechanic look over her shoulder to see Black Hayate sitting at attention at the door, the same way since he'd been brought there. "_He's eating and sleeping, but he just stays at the door all day, waiting._"

"_So did Mom,_" Ed thought. "Don't worry, Granny. Lt. Hawkeye is too responsible to just forget about her dog like that. She'll probably show up at the house and grab him before you even know what happened."

"_I hope so,_" Pinako said. "_Just make sure you get back in time for me to check your automail_."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed said. "I'll talk to you later, Granny." Hanging up the desk phone Ed went over to where Lt. Ross was standing. "Anyone ever coming to replace you two?" he asked.

"I might as well find a man with a brain and good personality," Ross said. "But the Major promised a replacement team in three days, so you're stuck with us a little while longer."

Ed nodded, walking outside. Al was out and about, buying some food for their next journey, and while he was pretty conspicuous, he technically wasn't the one who needed an escort. "Hey, do you have a paper?"

"They're over there," she answered. "Big story too. Parliament is actually questioning how useful state alchemists really are."

Ed looked over at the papers, surprised. "No way," he said softly. Ever since he'd been little, all he knew about parliament was that it was a bunch of collaborating old men in fancy suits. Grabbing a paper and giving the man at the small desk some change, he unfolded the front page.

"PARLIAMENT LOCKS HORNS WITH MILITARY

PM AND MPs QUESTIONING CURRENT MILITARY AUTHORITY

After calling the Furher to a special hearing two days ago, Prime Minister Regel and Vice Minister Fornall are again requesting Furher Bradley's presence at a second hearing on the matter of the recent string of deaths involving State Alchemists across the country, including noted hero of the Ishval war, Basque Gran. The question; Does the State Alchemist program truly pay for the costs it incurs, both in national treasure and human life?

'State Alchemists have always been loose cannons,' said Vice Minister Fornall. 'Solf J. Kimblee, the infamous Crimson alchemist, for example. All the power in the hands of a select few people is a recipe for disaster, and that is something we cannot allow with such tenuous situations on our Southern and Western borders.'

Adding to the question are recent technological advancements made in armor and weapons by Aerugo and Creata, both nations years behind Amestris in alchemic knowledge. Instead, reports from the front indicate that both nations are instead using technology that is beginning to outstrip Amestrian battlefield technology, calling into question the continued funding of alchemic research.

Finally, the question weighing in strongest into the consideration is the fact that, despite the existence of the state alchemist program, their intended deterrent factor has not succeeded at all.

'We're fighting two nations on our borders, attempting to keep a calm and civil relation with Drachma, and hunting rebels within our borders," Prime Minister Regel said. "And yet the State Alchemists under the control of the Fuhrer sit in their homes and bases, simply waiting for a call that it appears will never come."

Ed let the paper limply fall from his face. "I can't believe this," he said. "They're really standing up to the Military?"

"They are," Ross said, sighing. "A lot of the civilians I've heard talking around the hotel love the idea, too. They say that the country is finally going to get its fair share of money back if the alchemists' budgets are finally redistributed."

Ed looked back at the paper. No more being a dog of the state? Actually focusing on leads on his own, without anyone looking over his shoulder? Maybe even finding out who was really behind it all?

"I have to talk to Al about this," he said, storming off, Lt. Ross following.

* * *

By the afternoon, the body of what was once a man named John was being moved slowly through Lower Bucks Hospital, a hastily prepared quarantine room ready on the top floors. Police and federal agents had cordoned off the area, as the doctors and other specialists got to work.

Inside, the doctors took a minute to make a fast external examination of the body, and revulsed. These men and women, who had seen firsthand the horror of diseases like smallpox and ebola, who had tried to treat people ravaged by hemorrhagic fever and AIDS, were frozen by the body in front of them. Johnny's body was almost unrecognizable now, his left leg completely crystallized, a faint shadow of bone visible inside. The crystal that was jutting out of his lung wasn't alone, another one had burst through his right eye. His left had just been covered over by the green substance.

"Well, let's not just let this guy get any worse," said the lead doctor, the other doctors and nurses nodding. One of them pressed a record button, so the CDC could keep track as the hazmat suited doctors worked on the body.

"First note, the body is more than 50% crystallized. Of particular note are the massive crystal protrusions from the chest, as well as the small one located in the right eye socket. Left leg is completely crystallized; bone structure in the leg appears to still be intact." He reached over to a small table piled with surgical tools. "I am now making an incision around the chest cavity."

Slowly, what little flesh untouched by the crystal was peeled away. As the muscle and bones were exposed, the doctors shook their heads. The crystal had almost completely converted the ribs into more crystal, making cracking the chest a much more difficult prospect. Surgical sheers just weren't going to do the job against something that hardened.

"Note that the crystal has…transformational, and…mutagenic properties…" The doctor shook his head. It was just ridiculous. "The skin, muscle and skeletal structure from the chest down seem to be completely transformed. In light of this fact, we will instead move on to the skull." Looking over, he nodded to the doctor and nurse who were standing by with a small circular saw. The appliance was started, the whirring cutting through the silence like a laser on a dark night. Carefully, the doctor worked around the skull, noting the lack of blood flow from any of the wounds. The head doctor also saw, and noted it on the recording. The doctor cutting the head shook his head. When he was out of quarantine himself, he was just taking a vacation, no argument. Stuff like this wasn't meant to happen, and he was feeling so tired…

The doctor collapsed to the floor, his saw running wild on the floor. The nurse that was with him jumped halfheartedly out of the way, before collapsing to the floor herself. The rest of the team was already backing away from their colleagues and the body, but were themselves falling prey to whatever contagion was affecting their fellows. The lead doctor collapsed, making sure to say, as loud as he could, "Whatever this crystal is, it is probably highly radioactive as well as mutagenic. Extreme precautions recommended for…Oh God…"

Before succumbing to the radiation, a member of the surgical team slammed an alarm button on one of the pieces of equipment, alerting the guards outside that they had given their lives.

* * *

"Well gang, here it is. Allentown, PA. Distinguishing features, jack shit."

Looking out their windows, the commandos saw the town that was once their captain's home. Today it seemed a small decaying city, the industrial buildings before them long abandoned. "My family should still be living in the area. Knowing dear ol' dad, he's probably still living in our old house."

"Sir," Hotwire said. "Don't you think things seem too calm? The way you described it, the town is a major supplier of steel workers for the Bethlehem plant, as well as having a large manufacturing capacity. Here it looks like most of these factories are abandoned."

"It's lunch, Hotwire," Parker said. "Look, we'll just head to my house, talk to my folks and-"

"Head's up, sir," Deadeye said. "Gang members, on the left."

"The hell're you talking about?" Parker said. Looking out to his left, he saw them, and felt his jaw drop. There were indeed two men, wearing red clothing, both looking suspiciously at the SUV filled with whites that had stumbled into their territory. "What the hell?" Parker said. Looking around, he saw he was driving through the first ward, but the factories he saw were quiet, too quiet. He saw some graffiti, gang members. "When did this happen?"

Driving through town, he pulled up at a decaying old house, the paint peeling and front door scarred by animals. "Something's wrong," Parker said. "Something's gone very wrong."

"I'll work the lock, sir," Hotwire said. The other commandos covering her, though no one seemed to be around to call the cops. A few minutes of jimmying, and the door clicked, Hotwire slowly pushing the door in. Looking inside, Hotwire felt her head shake. "Sir, this isn't your parent's house."

Parker's eye were threatening to rip from his sockets as he ploughed past Hotwire and shoved through inside the house, only to freeze two steps in. The floor under his boots was covered in torn paper and syringes. Candles were everywhere, a few people lying on the floor. Live or dead, he couldn't say. Near panic, he grabbed the nearest body he could. "You! Where are the Parkers! Where did they go!"

"Wha-Who are you man?" the man on the floor asked, his tattoos barely moving as he flexed to escape Parker's grip. "Leggo, I don' know no Parkers, man, so let go!" He started to raise his voice, as Parker's grip tightened. "Yo, man, you hear me, let go!" The man's Mexican accent was clear through the house, other groans carrying to the front door. "Hey, pujta, let go already!"

"Tell me God damnit!" Parker yelled, now shaking the man violently. "WHERE ARE THE PARKERS!"

"Captain, we should get outta here!" Hotwire said, she and the other commandos doing their best to try and drag Parker away, if only to keep from killing the man. "This isn't the place to get information about your parents-"

"IT'S EXACTLY THE PLACE!" Parker bellowed. "THEY'RE IN MY PARENT'S HOUSE, DOING THIS, AND I KNOW MY PARENTS WERE HERE WHEN THEY MOVED IN!" He pointed into the hallway. "I KNOW WHERE I GREW UP, HOTWIRE, TAKE A LOOK BACK THERE! YOU'LL FIND ALL THE EVIDENCE YOU NEED!"

Motioning that Gunner and Patch stay in place to make sure Parker didn't kill anyone, Hotwire and Deadeye went into the small hallway, stepping over the prone figures of the addicted, as Parker kept screaming. The crunch of glass underfoot made Hotwire look down to see a small picture frame covered in debris. Bending down, wiping away the dirt, she lifted it to her face and was shocked. "Deadeye, look who's come home."

Practically grabbing the picture from Hotwire, Deadeye stared hard at the picture. In it was a man, a woman, and their son, at what looked like a picnic for, judging by the half of the banner in the background hanging between some trees, Bethlehem Steel workers. The man was healthily muscled, his wife and son under his right arm, his square face a contrast to the more rounded one of his wife, whose brown eyes shined even in the picture. If he wasn't so shocked, Deadeye would've said she was damn good looking. And between then, getting his father's square face and his mother's brown eyes, was a young boy, smiling.

Captain Nick Parker had indeed come home.

"Dude, seriously, let go, I dunno what happened to those people!" the junkie said, scared by Parker's outburst. "I got money, man, just let me go!"

"Not gonna happen," Parker growled in a low voice, reaching into his back pocket for a special gift from one of his old Marine buddies. Before Gunner and Patch could grab it, Parker pulled out a switchblade of considerable size and held it under the man's chin, tracing it across the junkie's neck. "Tell me where the Parkers went to."

The junkie was panicked now. Parker ignored the smell that was added by the man's frightened state, as Gunner grabbed at Parker's arm.

"Jesus, Cap'n! Put that blade away, he's got nothin' ta do wit' this!" he cried, wrenching Parker's arm away from the junkie's throat.

"Don't test me Gunner!" Parker barked. "I'm about ready to kill anyone right now, starting with this guy!" Quickly, he let go of the man's weathered tank top, in order to wrap his hands around his neck. "And you're gonna let me."

"Sir, no!" Patch said, slamming his fist into Havoc's inner elbow with all his might. With a grunt, Parker dropped the junkie, the man quickly crawling away over the dirty floor.

"Damnit Patch, what the hell are you doing!" Parker said, getting into a combat stance. This, of all things, worried Patch and Gunner the most. The Captain was a little hot headed, sure, but he knew who his allies were. If he was turning his knife on his old team, then he was more than certainly losing more than his cool.

"Cap'n, just cool yourself," Gunner said, motioning his arms down. "These addicts don't know a thing, so let's just go to the 'all of records and see what's 'appenin 'ere."

"He's right boys," a Scottish voice said to their right. "It's his house." Without a word, he tossed the broken frame at Gunner. Catching it in his large palm, Gunner eyed the picture, his eyes slowly growing wide.

"Told you," Parker said. "Now, back to the matter at hand," he said, stomping after the addict that had slipped from his grasp.

"Sir, just hold on!" Gunner said, placing a firm hand on Parker's shoulder. "You can't kill'im, sir, it'll just get us in a helluva lot aAARRRRGGGHHH!"

Parker forced his fingers deeper into Gunner's side, the large Brit squirming and shifting, trying to grab his captain's hands and pull them away, as the others rushed to help.

The junkie had crawled behind the small and worn kitchen counter, typing desperately into a small phone keyboard. The 13s would need to know about this, maybe it would even get him a month's worth. As fast as he could in his unstable situation, he managed to send out a garbled message of help before a large hand reached over the counter and pulled him up.

"Care to tell me who you were textin'," Gunner said angrily.

Martin Sholler, 83, was probably the last white person on the street. Everyone else had moved on or plain ol' died. It was just him and his wife now. He did his best to visit his kids, but gas had kept him homebound to the most part. So he was in the perfect spot to see the new SUV just pull up in front of the dilapidated house the Parker family used to live in. At first, he was surprised to see what looked like a group of office workers get out and go in, but the shook his head. Despite all evidence, it seemed another crime syndicate had pushed the Mexicans out. Sighing, he pulled out a small pack of cigarettes. He didn't care what his kids told him, he'd smoked this long, and with the way things were going, it wasn't going to do him much harm, all things considered.

Of course, fate has a way of being cruel, in this case the body of a small man flying through the front window of the old house, followed by the people that had gone in earlier. "Get up you bastard!" one of them yelled. Sholler's cigarette hung limply in his mouth, forgotten. "Tell me who you just called!"

"Captain, not in broad daylight!" said the woman, vaulting over the broken glass and landing short of the collapsed man. "There's witnesses!" Looking around, she pointed over to Sholler. "See!"

Looking over, the captain followed her hand and saw a familiar face at last. "Mr. Sholler!"

Sholler wasn't an idiot, and moved as fast as he possibly could have to the door, bolting it behind him and running to the nearest phone. But he was slowed with age, and the man who had called his name leaped through the window of the living room. Sholler froze before he could grab the phone, afraid of what the man would do if he saw the call.

To his surprise, the man grabbed Sholler and embraced him. "Oh God, it's good to see someone I know, sir," the man said, letting go. "Sir, what's going on around here, where's my folks?"

"Your…folks?" Sholler asked, a look of incredulousness spreading across his face. "I think you're mistaken, son, I've probably never met your parents-"

"The Parkers, Mr. Sholler," the man said. "It's me, Nick!"

It was like someone had dunked Sholler into ice water. He stood where he was and carefully studied the shape of the man's face. It wasn't possible. For this man to be who he said he was, he'd would've had to pull off the greatest miracle not seen for two-thousand plus years. He'd seen the Parkers in tears, tried to console them, but this…there wasn't any way in hell this man in front of him was little Nicky Parker!

"You…You aren't Nick Parker!" Sholler yelled, as loud and hard as he could manage. "I was there when they buried the boy! I saw his parents, his mother crying her eyes out, and I saw the boy's face in that coffin!"

Parker was doing just fine until he heard the part about a face. All the members of Dead 6 had closed coffins, no exceptions. Did command lie to them? An open coffin wasn't possible, not even Nod's best specialists could perfectly fake a body that way for an open coffin funeral. "What do you mean…open coffin?"

"Get away from me and my wife!" the old man said, kicking and struggling with all the might he could gather from his old frame. "Just get out of here!"

"Cap'n, let's just go!" Gunner said, finally wrenching Parker's hands away from the old man. "The police'll be here any minute, we'd be jailed for sure!"

With all the effort he could muster, Gunner and the others dragged the shocked commando to the SUV, Patch slamming his foot down on the accelerator and speeding away from the street.

* * *

The ride on the bus was incredible to the soldiers. Their only experiences with any kind of mass transit up to their sudden arrival in this "America" was limited to trains and the utilitarian wagons so common to the country provinces where rails were either unavailable or too expensive for the people. This bus, by comparison, was a feat of mastery, topped only by the amazing subway. To fit as many people in one space and still have it capable of moving along a crowded city's street was unbelievable. There were other sights, however, like the strange little buds people were wearing in their ears. A few, Mustang swore he heard music coming from, but there was no way even a science like physics could fit an entire record player into such a small space like a pocket.

"We're here," Havoc said, looking at the small display at the front. "Let's go before it keeps moving."

Getting off, they walked about five feet away from the bus stop before they stopped dead. The library was massive, far larger than any in Central. The sheer amount of books inside would easily outstrip the First Branch, every library in Central together. Finally moving to the doors, they slowly regained their heads as they walked to the front desk. "Excuse me," Mustang said. "Where could I find any maps or atlases of the country, as well as any crime statistics for certain areas?"

"Just a moment," the middle woman at the desk said, turning in her chair to press on some buttons in front of yet another small screen. Mustang had noticed that the devices seemed to be everywhere in America, like a sort of symbol for the people. "Okay, I have the atlases and maps on the second floor, and I have crime records for…do you want the city, the state, or nationwide?"

"Nationwide, please, as close to this year as possible," Mustang said, smiling.

"Of course," the librarian said, going back to her board. Looking closely, Mustang saw the setup was amazingly close to that of a typewriter, and the screen had letters and words appearing as soon as the librarian pressed the keys. "_So it's just a really advanced typewriter_," Mustang thought. "_So how do the words appear on the screen?_"

"Okay, here's a quick printout of all the sections you'll need," the woman said, pressing a button on a small device that seemed to be connected by a wire to the back of the box the screen sat on. A split second later, a small box next to the woman started to hum and whirr, the group backing away in surprise. A piece of paper was slowly jerked and pulled into the box, appearing seconds later with lettering on it. Mustang and the others watched in awe, just in time for the woman to turn and see them all staring in amazement at the printer. "Are you all okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, we're fine!" Mustang said, smiling coyly. "Thanks for the information." Nodding to the others, he lead them away and towards the reading area, only to once more stop and stare. The number of books was just too many to even guess at. "Hawkeye, take Fuery and look for a map of the country. Havoc, Falman, you look for the crime statistics. Breda and I will see if we can't use one of the…boxes that the woman was using."

"Very good sir," Hawkeye said, leading Fuery off into the section of the library the woman specified on the note, Havoc and Falman doing the same. "Well Breda, think you can make this work?"

"I can try sir," he said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "I figured out that ticket machine, a fancy typewriter should be a piece of cake."

"That's why you're on the job, Breda," Mustang said, smiling at the 2nd Lieutenant's sharp mind. "Let's see if the nice lady at the front desk can help us."

* * *

As soon as Ed had found Al, he'd started explaining everything in detail. The inquiry by parliament, calling the furher to the stand, the question of state alchemists. Al simply listened as he, Ed, and Lt. Ross walked back to the hotel. Looking around, they saw they had arrived at a very familiar clock. "That's all a lot to take in, brother," Al said, looking up at the clock. "You really think we could go on without your state funding?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Ed said with a small shrug, as Lt. Ross kept lookout around the plaza. "All I know is that we need to keep track of this, no question. But I need to go back home for maintenance." He looked at Lt. Ross. "Can you keep track of things here while we go back home?"

Ross didn't know what to say. "What? But I'd lose my job if I was found informing to you! I'd lose everything!"

"We don't have anyone else we can trust, Lieutenant," Ed said. "You, Sgt. Brosh, Maj. Armstrong, you're the only ones left in the military we can trust at all. We need you to keep us up to date on what's going on while we're out of the loop."

Lt. Ross seemed to stop in time and thjnk over what Ed had just said. It was true that while she and the others in the Court Martial office, especially the Major, were all good and trustworthy, the enemy was always three steps ahead. But Ed and Al were probably the best hope anyone in the State had of finding Col. Mustang. Besides, a group of fellow soldiers were missing, and probably in some danger, and she'd be damned if she would just let them slip away. "Alright, Ed, Sgt. Brosh and I will watch Parliament's actions and keep you informed. Just please be careful while you and Al are out of the Capitol. If you disappeared…"

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Al said. "No one outside the military knows where our home is, so there's a good chance that the ones who went after Col. Mustang are still in Central."

"Let's all hope so," she said, as Ed and Al started walking back to the hotel. "I don't want to see anyone else die on my watch."

* * *

"So you said you knew one of the suspects," Gibbs said, as he and Gunny Franklin talked across the table in the brig of the Naval yard. "You also said the man was dead. Care to correct your statements?"

Franklin shook his head. "Nick Parker is dead," Frankling answered. "He was with me when I was an MP in the First Gulf War. Parker was under my command when a mortar round hit our position. He was the closest to the impact, he took most of the shrapnel…" Franklin looked down at the table. "By some miracle his face wasn't hit. The funeral…the funeral was painful."

"I can imagine." Gibbs watched the Gunny carefully. He wasn't showing any obvious signs he was lying, just that he was uncomfortable talking about Nick Parker. "So why did you think this man was him?"

"His face," Franklin said. "His face was exactly like it was in the coffin. No mistake, sir, sure as I'm standing here."

"You think he may have faked his own death?" Gibbs said, cocking his eyebrow a little.

"No, but I just wish I had a way to explain what I've seen yesterday."

Gibbs nodded. "That'll be all, Gunny." Getting up, he was opening the door when Franklin said, "Sir?" Turning, he saw the Gunny with an angry look in his eyes. "I know Parker's dead. If you're forced to shoot this bastard, I can promise you I won't lose any sleep over it."

"Affirmative, Gunny." Walking out of the room, he saw DiNozzo waiting. "Yes, DiNozzo?"

"They traced the car back to Bucks County, boss," DiNozzo said. "Ziva already called the locals, they said the FBI is already down there investigating the same case, just with a different group."

"Connection?"

"Our guys and their guys fought, then parted ways, it seems," DiNozzo said. "The director called, he wants us working with the FBI on this one."

"Of course he does," Gibbs said. "Alright, call the nice FBI agents, tell them we'll have to start working together. And DiNozzo?"

"Yeah boss?"

"Don't hit on the female agents."

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss." DiNozzo said, as Gibbs walked over to where Ziva was going over the pictures taken of the suspects and their weapons.

"What do you have, Ziva?"

"Abby was right, these weapons are nothing like any I've ever trained with." She showed what looked like an assault rifle at Gibbs, only much boxier. "Have you ever used an assault rifle that fired .50 caliber rounds? Or how about this?" She showed him another picture, this one a rocket launcher, as far as Gibbs could tell, but with a protrusion from the back. "A rocket launcher with a magazine. Whatever Ms. Avi has been working on, it's nothing good for anyone."

"You almost seem afraid of this woman, Ziva."

Ziva was taken aback. "I am _not_ afraid!" she countered, laughing. "I'm just advising caution, that's all! I mean, look at how easily she escaped-"

"Don't remind me," Gibbs grunted. "Now get to identifying those weapons that we can." With that, he stormed away to call Director Vance, leaving Ziva disappointed with herself, but determined to prove herself again.

* * *

"The CDC exam team is dead," Agent Foy said, hanging up her cell phone. She and Swink were driving back to Trenton, since Saar's instructions on where to find everyone at the party didn't include friends brought by the guests Saar didn't know. By the time they would managed to interview all the guests, it may have been too late. But that was a future shoved out of the way by Foy's announcement. "They were taken out by extremely high radiation."

"Radiation from what?" Swink said, as he took Rt. 1 across the bridge into the city.

"The crystal," Foy answered. "When a team with full protection walked in, the Geiger counter they had with them started popping as soon as they walked in the door. They've managed to get the body out of Bucks, they're transferring it down to the main CDC facility in Atlanta."

"Jesus," Swink mumbled. "Anything else?"

"NCIS thinks-"

"Who?" Swink asked, as he exited onto Warren St.

"Naval Cops," Foy answered. "They reported an attempted break in and escape from the Philadelphia Naval yard. They think this other group is connected somehow, they want to set up a joint task force. Washington's already agreed."

"Wonderful," Swink said, turning onto 29. "So when are they coming over?"

"Tomorrow," Foy said. "They've already got as much information on the other group as they could gather. They'll give us a quick brief as soon as they get here."

"Alrighty then!" Swink said with a grin. "Let's get back to the office, fast, get everything squared away so I can get some sleep."

* * *

As Falman looked through the crime statistics in the magazines and books, he thought back to the city called Trenton, and compared what he had seen to this New York. Trenton managed to somehow look more massive than Central, but this New York covered every bit of land for miles, and even an island! And it was even set up so that there were specific set aside areas of greenery, where back home, every city was a solid mass of buildings, with only the better off having any kind of yard, however small. New York had a massive park, dead in the center, with something called a 'zoo', a sort of public menagerie with exotic animals! If he wasn't so focused on finding out the crime information, he would have liked to go see it. But his superior's orders came first.

New York was out, it was too nice. Every neighborhood used to have a decently high crime rate, but now, it was almost completely pacified. Philadelphia was still out, and the cities up to the north, in the area called "New England", were even more peaceful and law abiding. Then he hit the jackpot. A large city located near the center of the country, up by a region of "Great Lakes". Smiling at his success, he grabbed the information and was carrying it through the stacks of books when Havoc appeared from out of nowhere. "Yeeagh!" he yelped, jumping back, dropping some of the books and papers. A few other people looked up from what they were doing to see what happened. "What was that for?" he whispered, trying to downplay their suspicion.

"I need to talk to someone, Falman, I'm freaking out!" Havoc said. Falman felt a little sorry for the lieutenant, it'd been a couple of days since he'd smoked, so of course he was probably suffering a little. "Remember on the train platform? The Colonel and Lt. Hawkeye, and them…_holding hands!_"

Falman gulped nervously. Havoc did have a point. Even for a disguise to fool the local authorities, Col. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye acting like any kind of couple in a relationship was just unthinkable. Shaking the thoughts away, he tried to calm Havoc. "It's fine, sir. It was probably nothing anyway. I think we should go get you some cigarettes after we're done here, sir, you look like you need it."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Havoc said, wringing his hands. "Thanks, Falman, I needed to talk to someone about that."

"Not at all, sir," Falman said. "I've got the information the Colonel asked for, let's bring it to the table."

Breda worked fast at the typewriter at the librarian's desk, as Mustang flirted with the middle aged woman. Even with Mustang's womanizing ways getting in the way of many a relationship in East and Central city, it came in handy when they needed a distraction to get things done. Accessing something called the "Internet", he saw something called "Google Search". Typing in what he needed on the board with the letters, he searched for "transportation". The results were useless, only showing information, no actual way to get from point a to point b. Then, he tried typing in "bus companies", as the librarian laughed innocently behind him. Trying his best to keep from laughing at the Colonel's attempts at keeping the woman occupied, he searched, pressing the "enter" key that seemed to make the device accept commands. "_Jackpot_," he thought. Looking at the small device at made the clicking noises when the woman pressed the left button, he slowly moved the arrow on the screen over to the blue words. Pressing on the button, he saw a new screen appear. Seeing "Station locations", he pressed the button again, and saw a list appear. Knowing he was in New York, he pressed once more, only to see a number of new blue words. Going back to what he knew about "America", he knew that New York was two things, a city, and a "state". So he went down the screen until he saw "New York". Pressing on the first blue words he could see, he saw an address appear in a smaller screen. Smiling, he grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote everything down before pressing a large button on the screen, making it black and getting rid of what he was researching. Carefully moving past the woman, who by now was resting her head on her hands, staring almost like she was in a trance at Mustang, he nodded to the Colonel, as he quickly walked back to the table.

"Well, it's been wonderful talking with you," Mustang said, waving as he walked off. Waving flirtatiously, the librarian smiled. Turning back to her computer, though, she was surprised to see the screen had gone to black. Turning it back on, she saw a Greyhound bus website onscreen. Confused, she realized that, despite there being another man with the handsome one, he hadn't left. Frowning, she shrugged. "Whatever," she said, exiting the sites and getting back to her work.

"Did you all get the information?" Mustang said, as they all gathered around the table they decided to use.

"Right here, sir," Hawkeye said, putting a book of maps on the table. "Falman, did you get the crime data?"

"Here, Lieutenant," he said, putting the magazines on the table. "From what Lt. Havoc and I found, the worst area in the country for crime is an area called 'Detroit', in the state of Michigan."

"Right here," Fuery said, pointing to the map. Looking, at it, they all saw a state shaped like an oven mitt, and another part like a jagged rock. "The city's down here, right on the border with this other nation, Canada. Is there any way to get there?"

"Right here," Breda said, waving the paper with the information around. "All we need to do is get to this address and we're set."

"Alright," Mustang said. "Let's get moving to this address and get to that bus. And Havoc? Get yourself some cigarettes, I need you focused."

"Right away, chief!" Havoc said enthusiastically, as the group made their way to the doors.

* * *

"We're passing the Strait of Gibraltar, captain," the first mate of the freighter said, reading the electronic charts.

"Very good. Put the engines at half speed and tell the crew to make final preparations, I don't want any mistakes when we let the monsters loose."

"Aye, sir," the first mate said, grabbing the PA and sending the orders down to the cargo hold. As he talked, the captain walked over to the charts to make the final adjustments to the course. The Mediterranean was a well known sea, but her reefs and rocks were still as dangerous to sailors now as they were in ancient times. Added to the fact that GDI patrols from Italy would throw Kane's entire plan into disarray, and with it, the Brotherhood's vision for a new future for humanity, and the Captain would be damned before he let that happen.

In the hold, the thing once known as Gen. Raveshaw, just sat in on his small metal seat in the hold, along with the other Templars and Acolytes. His mind wasn't functioning anymore, it was only a husk, an animal's mind. He was now nothing more than a drone in Kane's plans, no longer the great leader of men. That task, before he became what he was now, had been handed off to the young Anton Slavik. Raveshaw just stared numbly at the other side of the hold, as Black Hand troops patrolled the gangways above and below, as the Initiates rattled their cages and howled in rage.

"These things are starting to get angrier and angrier," one of the troopers said into his helmet mic, knowing it wouldn't escape to the ears of the tiberium mutants. "We must be getting close. It's almost like they can sense the fight that's coming."

"_Just keep an eye on their container doors,_" his commander said. "_If these things get loose in numbers, the plan is over._"

"Roger," the trooper said, using his rifle's scope to scan the containers. "They're still in place, but the chains are actually straining a little. Tell the captain to go as fast as we can, I don't think they'll stay in place much longer."

"_Roger_."

Looking back down into the holds, the trooper saw the other ReGenesis projects, the ones with visible brains and permanent grins, and the others, who were more machines than men. Despite all of Kane's assurances, he still couldn't help but feel apprehensive about them. They weren't human, not anymore. That fact alone, more than anything, probably made him the most uncomfortable. Idly, he wondered what happened when you made a man less than a man, more of a machine. Did a person just die? What did they think? Then he mentally slapped himself. He was questioning Kane by doing that, and he wasn't about to go against the Brotherhood. He would have to confess his sins before the battle, and hope his actions would prove his worth.

* * *

Seraiah walked through the temple quickly, behind him a team of the finest Black Hand commandos he could find, on Kane's orders. They were given a wide berth from all inside, as they quickly marched from the entrance to Kane's own personal scientific chambers. He'd expelled all his usual assistants, instead choosing to work on his own for a week. All he'd requested since then was the Brotherhood's latest weapon, a Volt rifle. Since then, he'd not been seen anywhere, his two guards still waiting for him to exit as Seraiah walked up to them with the small squad. "At ease, both of you." The men went from attention to at ease, leaning their rifles to the side. "Has Lord Kane left at all?"

"No, Brother Seraiah," said the one of the left, his mask making his voice electric and almost inhuman. "He hasn't left since he entered."

"I see. Open the doors, I have the agents he requested."

Nodding, the men each removed their gloves and, along with Seraiah, placed their thumbs on a small scanner placed by the door. With a long hiss, the door slid open, and a blinding light that forced them all, even the visor wearing guards, to either shut their eyes or turn away. Slowly, Seraiah and the commandos made their way forward into the room, the doors shutting behind them, the lights dimming to a normal intensity as soon as the doors shut. "Lord Kane, I have the men you…asked…for?"

"Ah, Seraiah, I'm glad you could bring them in time." Lifting a pair of goggles and turning from his workstation, Kane held in his hands a Volt with three other electrodes attached, a cord running from its grip to the end of the wall. "You're all about to help in a new experiment."

* * *

**Wow, an update! I'm as surprised as you all are.**

**Anyway, I have a poll running for this story in my profile. Anyone interested, please make your voice heard! I want to know what _you_ think will happen!**

**As always, reviews and criticisms are requested, so get to it!**


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